


To Make A Crown (the rewrite)

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Battle, Battle wounds, Erebor, F/M, Rewrite, always a woman!Bilbo, fembilbo, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of trading the Arkenstone to the Men of Laketown, Billa decides to give away her share of the treasure to protect her friends. Little did she know that her actions would legally make her the wife of Thorin Oakeshield. Which also meant ending up as Queen Under the Mountain to rule in his behalf while the royal line is too injured after the battle</p><p>(the rewrite of the first long fic I have ever written)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Gifts

Billa’s feet sank into the coins, sending tiny avalanches of silver and gold down the hill with each step she took. It was hard to keep her balance on the unstable hill of treasure and some of the bigger and sharper trinkets dug into her soles uncomfortably, even bordering on painful.

Nevertheless Billa kept on climbing, kicking at the gold coins miserably and wishing for a nice cup of tea and maybe a cake by a fireside. A comfortable armchair maybe, a blanket for warmth and the peaceful bliss of knowing that there was nothing else that she had to see to. She was sure that there was _some_ sort of place that was comfortable even after the decades of neglect, a place where she and the Dwarves could rest. Maybe she’d get them to tell her stories of their old home, as they used to do on the journey, now that she could actually see what they had described.

But instead of finding such a place, everyone was digging through the treasure, as Thorin had insisted that all Dwarves (and the Lady Burglar) were to go and search for the precious Arkenstone. And of course that was what they did.

Looking up from where she was putting her feet, Billa could see the enormous treasure-filled hall, and what her friends were doing on the other piles of gold.

Bombur had left the group earlier in order to prepare a warm meal, and after a day of exploring most of the other Dwarves had started to slow down in their search. Instead they were rummaging through the gold, paying more attention to new curiosities rather than looking for the King’s Jewel. She spotted Bofur and Nori perching on a large engraved shield, pulling random objects out of the pile beneath them to examine them. Glóin seemed to be taking a nap on the gold, judging by the sounds of his breathing. Somewhere out of sight she could hear Fíli and Kíli being engaged in a treasure-throwing match.

Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

With a sigh Billa sat down and let herself slide down the pile, putting her out of the line of sight of the Dwarves.

The others were searching for the Arkenstone, slow as they were, and Billa could only pretend to be focused on the task. It was hard to act as if she knew nothing of anything, hard to pretend that she was as determined as the rest, when she’d found the damned stone on her very first venture into the mountain kingdom. Now it was hidden away in a knot of her spare blankets, and Billa’s heart froze in fear when she thought of anyone stumbling upon it there.

There truly was no reason to keep the gem. Sure, it was beautiful, entrancing in its play of colours and the way it shone seemingly on its own. A not-so-little part of Billa wanted to keep it, claim it as her share and steal it away instead of the piles of gold that were hers according to the contract. It’d be so easy, and a much better reward for a Hobbit than the gold. A pretty stone just for her to look at, rather than more gold than she could possibly spend, let alone carry back to the Shire.

But each time that thought crossed her mind, it was followed by a pang of guilt, and the image of how Thorin’s face would look like if she brought it to him. How he would smile just as he did every time she did something to prove her worth to the company, or anything he for some reason found endearing. She’d imagine his relief each time the company had escaped from danger unharmed, and how gentle and sweet his expression became when he was about to reach up and brush a curl out of her face.

How pleased he’d be if it was Billa who brought him that precious stone of his grandfather. She couldn’t help but imagine how he would praise her for that final service she had done for them, and for him especially. How he would craft her a beautiful silver chain to wear the Arkenstone around her neck, just like he had promised he would do with all the precious jewels of Erebor.

From the way Billa judged the progress of their relationship, she was quite sure that the Arkenstone might be hers to admire as much as she pleased either way. That she could keep it as _hers_ even if she did hand it over for just a little while. That pleased that treacherous part in her enough to keep it hidden for now, and not feel the urge to make off to the Shire.

She had slipped the stone into her pocket, reasoning that she would give it to her beloved Dwarf as soon as she wasn’t trembling from fatigue and covered in ash and dirt.

By now she wished she had given it to Thorin immediately, instead of waiting for the ‘right moment’. Right now there was little keeping her from just walking up to the King and shoving the rock into his face, just to make him shut up about how important it was. Because it really was not.

If Billa was Queen, she thought, somebody other than Thorin who the company would listen to, she’d make them drop everything and just go start cleaning up proper rooms, rather than the cold halls they had explored so far. She’d try to make things comfortable and warm, she’d try to find a way to get food for everything, something _good_ that did not involve unreasonable amounts of _cram_. Maybe she’d send word to the Men of Laketown as well, to offer them the gold they were owed. But she wasn’t, and there was no use in wishing for it. All she could do was try and talk some sense into her Dwarf.

The sudden clattering of metal and shuffling of feet made her look up. The ones who had been taking a break quickly returned to their tasks, and Thorin strode through the trenches of treasure. His face was dark and he barely glanced at the Dwarves he was passing. They didn’t dare speak to him, and ducked their heads as he walked by, but glanced back up again as soon as he was further away.

Just a few months back, Billa would have shrunken away and hidden herself from his glare, just to avoid falling victim to his constant criticism. But she had gained his respect and friendship since then, and even his love. Thorin had told her so over and over, as he held her in his arms and kissed her in between promises of home and hope, and of his descriptions of the treasure and the gifts he’d give her. He’d told her so wordlessly, when he had smiled at the flowers she braided into his soft hair, and when he’d proudly worn them despite the company’s good-natured teasing.

Despite all this, Billa had also faced down _far_ scarier things than Dwarf Kings in the short time of their relationship.

As Thorin approached the spot where Billa had hidden, she got up and took a deep breath. She straightened her skirt as she always did for a confidence boost, and carefully stepped down from the gold, doing her best to walk upright and not slip on the coins.

Thorin only stopped when he finally noticed her, having walked quite a bit away from the other Dwarves.

“Billa,” he said instead of embracing her as a greeting, or even taking her hand. He’d done that ever since the first time they’d shared a first shy kiss. But the tenseness on his face melted away a little, easing into the warm smile that still made Billa’s toes curl.

“I thought you were further down the halls, by the display of swords?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

Billa huffed a little.

“Well, I’ve indeed been there. But that was yesterday! By now I have moved many piles further, don’t you remember? You told me stories about the metal toys over there.”

Thorin nodded slowly, but his attention was already slipping as his eyes moved on to the gold behind the Hobbit, searching. Even now he couldn’t stop thinking about the ruddy Arkenstone!

Billa could feel her cheeks heat up as her throat tightened in frustration. Over Thorin’s shoulder she could even see the company watching, all giving her a quick compassionate smile when they noticed her staring back, before disappearing behind the gold to return to their work.

“Can I please have a word with you? Alone?” she asked and tilted her chin up. Before Thorin could reply, she’d grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from the searching Dwarves.

Thorin stiffened for a moment, and Billa thought he’d pull away, but he followed her without protesting. As soon as she’d walked far enough to be out of earshot of the company, she let go and spun around to face him with a glare.

“What is on your mind that needs to be kept between us? Did something happen?” Thorin asked, and his brow furrowing in worry. He seemed completely focused on just her in the here and now for the first time in _days_. It made some of her irritation drain away.

She sighed.

“It’s… nothing urgent really. But I think there are matters much more urgent than going through this treasure. I understand that this is important to you, but we really should focus on other things-“ she started to explain. Thorin took her hands into his and rubbed slow gentle circles over her skin as she talked.

“And what would that be?” he asked, tone light and eyes crinkled in amusement, as he did when he found her Hobbit ways funny.

Billa wasn’t ready to let his belittlement keep her from telling him off though.

“For once, I am sure that we could all use some rest. Look at us! We haven’t even managed to find time to clean the journey’s dirt from or clothes!”

“There’s only icy water here, my Burglar, we couldn’t right now, even if we wanted to.”

“And what about food? Searching for that wouldn’t hurt either. Or working on restoring stairs or rooms or any _proper_ place to live! We can’t just go on like this.”

Thorin laughed and the sound eased some of the worry on Billa’s mind.

“Oh my dear Burglar. You truly are a grocer and a Hobbit in your brave little heart.” He grasped her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. “I am sorry, I forgot how much your people value these things. But you must be patient just a little longer; soon the Iron Hills Dwarves will be here to restore our Kingdom, and once my grandfather’s stone is found I will personally ensure that you’ll want for nothing.”

Thorin’s arms wrapped around her, and Billa was trapped in the embrace and couldn’t help but lean closer, despite wanting to continue being angry.

“Can’t that wait?”

The search would be futile anyway, but he couldn’t know that.

“Of course not, my Burglar, the sooner the Arkenstone is returned to its place over my throne the better,” he replied and brushed a hand over her hair. “It’s the symbol of my power, I need it.”

“And what of defending the mountain? Surely it’s not wise to have possible weak points with so many sullen Men waiting close by?” she tried.

Thorin pushed her back a little without letting go, to better look at her face.

“Are you worried about the Men of Laketown coming to steal from us?”

“No… well. Yes! Yes I am. We are just fourteen and we are tired and they are so much taller and bigger than us! We wouldn’t stand a chance!”

Thorin shook his head slightly, eyes narrowing in a smile.

“Dwarves are stronger than Men in a fight. They will not dare take what is rightfully ours. And soon Dáin and his armies will be at our side, what we’re protecting will never fall into their hands, I promise you. I will fight till my last and slay each and every one who should dare come too close to you and our gold or _anything_ that is mine!” he said, voice growing into a low growl full of fervour.

Billa frowned, unsure whether it was from her lover’s foolish stubbornness or his possessive words. No matter how passionate and loving he had meant those words to be, she wasn’t part of his treasure, nor did she wish to be while he was acting as he did.

Not noticing her expression Thorin took a step back to sit down on the pile of gold. He didn’t let go either, making her stumble and fall over. She landed in his lap with a laugh and batted at his chest to be released. But the Dwarf only laughed softly and pulled her closer until she was sitting comfortable across his legs.

He pressed kisses to her cheek and nose, brushed his fingers through her curls and made her giggle at the familiar scratch of his beard against her skin. It felt as it should be, as it had before. Easy and comfortable, and it melted the discomfort Billa had felt these past days out of her heart.

Thorin turned away then, reaching for something in the pile behind him. Billa watched him bush aside goblets and beautiful jewellery, pick things up just to drop them after few seconds of examinations. Finally he turned back and took hold of Billa’s curls, to braided something glittering into her hair.

“There,” he said when that was done and smiled at his work. “Now you really look like you belong to a King. Everyone who isn’t a complete fool will know not to harm you!”

“What is it?” Billa tried to take a better look at what Thorin had placed in her hair, while the Dwarf went on searching for more.

It was a delicate net of gold wire and tiny sapphires worked into it, and even Billa could tell how precious it must be. It seemed to her like something the daughters of a richer Lord of Men might wear, and certainly something none of her Shire friends could afford or even dream about. She recognized a pattern in the net, the same that was on most of Thorin’s clothes.

“Oh…” she blushed a little at that, realizing that it surely was too precious for Thorin to just give away like that. “Thorin, this is really too much of a gift…” she started, as the Dwarf wrapped thin chains of similar design around her wrist.

“Nonsense. Any Dwarf will make the effort to give their loved one such gifts, as precious and beautiful as they can make it, befitting their love,” Thorin started to explain, voice soft and slow, as it had been when each time he spoke of the Dwarven traditions.

He had mentioned it before, about how one would craft the most beautiful adornments to prove one’s skill with the gems and metals, things to emphasise the beauty and how they valued the one the gift was meant for.

Thorin placed another chain on her, this time heavy rubies to go around Billa’s neck, and then he draped pearls around her head like a crown.

He took her chin in both of his hands and tilted her face to have a better look.

“You are magnificent,” Thorin said, disregarding the frown that had returned to the Hobbit’s face. His eyes wandered over the precious materials he had woven into her hair and he smiled.

“I can see it before my eyes. Once Erebor is restored to its former glory, and I am sitting on my throne, the Arkenstone above me, as it should be. You shall sit by my side, dressed in all the riches a King’s Consort deserves. All the people who have wronged us in the past shall come to pay their respects, and they shall see my precious treasures, my Kingdom, my love. I shall laugh at the faces they’ll make later.”

Billa bit her lip, unsure what should bother her more: the way Thorin talked of others, how he was thinking about the damned Arkenstone again, or how he was just assuming she would marry him, without asking her, without courting or even voicing an intent to do so. The future of their relationship had been obvious to her, for surely being the King’s lover would mean someday she would be Queen; however, he had not asked, and she had not given him a “yes” or a “no” or even so much as an “I’ll think about it”. 

Unconcerned by her expression and the glare directed at him, Thorin brushed his fingers over Billa’s pointy ear thoughtfully.

“Most Dwarves pierce holes into their earlobes and wear rings of precious stones or metal in them. Some Men do this as well. Do Hobbits do such a thing? It would suit you, if you wished for me to do it.”

The same touch that used to feel so pleasant now made Billa shiver and she shoved Thorin’s hands off her. He finally looked at her, startled by the sudden harsh rejection.

“You can’t just talk of things like this!” Billa snapped. “Stop giving these things to me! You haven’t even courted me yet, how can you talk of it so casually? Am I just another polished jewel to make your former hosts and _friends_ jealous with?”

She climbed from Thorin’s lap with as much grace as she could muster, which was little, since she kept slipping on the shifting ground. She might have fallen over if Thorin hadn’t grabbed her wrist again.

“Don’t you want my gifts? Is this offensive to you Hobbits? A Dwarven maiden would not refuse such things given by her lover. Especially not if she’s a royal’s consort! This is so much less than what would be due to you.”

“I _do_ want you to make me gifts, but not like this! You hardly think of anything else! And that’s not even the point; you treat me like part of your treasure all of a sudden. Taking me for granted, like something to keep in your treasury. Wouldn’t I be the Queen if I married you?”

“Queen of Dwarves?” Thorin looked slightly amused. “Someone who was a Master Burglar from the Shire? If you want _that_ title, you may have it.”

“Well, isn’t it the proper title I’d get?” Billa snapped, feeling her fury rise again.

“If you wish. It _would_ bring certain duties with it, though, if you want everything your title brings,” Thorin said lightly. It still felt patronizing to Billa, and she hated being talked to in such a manner.

“We Hobbits believe that spouses should support each other in their duties, so I am aware of that! But who said that I would _want_ to be your Queen anyway?” she said coolly.

“So my consort after all. What does it matter?” Thorin said, and he sounded frustrated now, wary of the Hobbit not making any sense.

Billa glared at him.

“No! Not while you’re behaving like you do now! If this is the way you will be from now on – treating me and your friends like this – I will simply take my bag and leave for the Shire! I have no wish to be part of this.”

Thorin’s expression twisted in pain and confusion, as his grip tightened on Billa’s wrist.

“What are you saying, Burglar?” he growled, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You belong at my side, you can’t just run _now_ , after everything. What is it you want to return to? To whom? Aren’t you part of my company?”

His expression was shifting. He still seemed to not understand what was going on with Billa, and the way he watched her reminded Billa of the moments he was thinking of Elves or thieves who wanted to take what was his. It was just that possessive streak that made Billa worry for her Dwarf.

His grip tightened even more as his voice grew more agitated.

“Did I not offer you enough? Is it more gold you want? Or is this some kind of revenge for whatever I did that doesn’t agree with your tender Hobbit ways?”

The gems around Billa’s wrists started cutting into her flesh like shackles where Thorin was holding her, and he seemed to not notice them against his rough hands. She made an effort to pull away, anger swelling in her chest.

“Thorin, I am warning you!”

“You are- Guard your tongue, Burglar, it is you who-“

“Billa? Uncle Thorin?”

The Hobbit and the Dwarf’s heads turned to where the voice had come from. Kíli stood on the paths they had walked before, staring at them wide-eyed and leaning backwards, as if he had wanted to run away before they noticed him. Neither of the pair said a word, so he gestured towards where the company was.

“I… Bombur sent me to tell you that the food is prepared and the others wanted to wait until you- when everyone is back.”

A blush crept over his cheeks and Thorin nodded and stood up swiftly, walking away from Billa and Kíli.

She sighed and rubbed at where the chains had left marks on her skin. Kíli waited by her side, watching as she pulled all the gems out of her hair with a worried frown.

“Is everything alright? Are you and uncle-“ Kíli started carefully, unsure about the argument he’d witnessed. Billa sighed and gave him a small but genuine smile. He had arrived just in time, Eru only knew what she might have told Thorin in her anger.

“Of course I’m fine. We were just having a disagreement and your uncle is being too stubborn. Go on, you don’t have to wait for me taking all these trinkets off.”

Kíli didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nodded and followed his uncle to let her work in peace.

As soon as he was out of sight Billa buried her face in her hands and groaned. She had no idea what to do about Thorin, and whether he would stay like this.

She took a few moments to compose herself, then straightened her back and went to rejoin the company.


	2. Price for Peace

During the journey, the company had used evenings to unwind after a day of hard travel, with music and jokes and scuffles. At first Billa had been too exhausted to join in or even understand how anyone had any energy left for that. Later she’d realized that it made it easier to fall asleep after the dinner, and that it was how her Dwarves kept their good mood despite the taxing travels.

And just as she had been bothered by their roughness before, Billa came to hate the way things were in Erebor, how her friends were too miserable or nervous or hungry to get loud at night. There was little song or play in their group, and in the relative safety of their home and destination Billa felt that the mood couldn’t have been worse at any point of their travels, not even in the darkness of Mirkwood.

It wasn’t even as if the Dwarves weren’t loud or having fun _at all_. While everyone was grumbling about the food and the siege, they were still making jokes and amused themselves. The mood was glum, but from where Billa sat tucked away in her blankets she could see them making attempts to lift each other’s spirits.

Bofur had found himself a few beautiful gilded flutes, and with his cousin’s help he set to repair them. Fíli, Kíli and Ori sat close together and examined old books the scribe had found, while telling each other stories in an attempt to spook the others. Some of the others were just relaxing on the piles of gold to have quiet talks.

Instead of reassuring her, it only made her grow more worried.

Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

She spotted Balin, Dwalin and Óin sitting a little apart from the where the others were, out of earshot and speaking quietly. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but then she spotted that they were all focused on a bird sitting between them. Roäc, she realized, which surely meant he had news of Dáin and the Tall Folk before the gate. He’d be able to answer Billa’s questions surely, so she got up and walked over as quickly as the unstable ground would allow. 

Balin glanced up quickly as she approached and knelt down at their sides, but the others were still listening to the Chief of Ravens finishing up his report.

“I thank you, Roäc, son of Carc. This news will be of good use to us and your efforts truly are a blessing in these difficult times,” he said and bowed his head to the bird. Roäc returned the gesture and then flew up in the air and towards the further ends of the hall, mostly likely to search for Thorin.

“What did he say?” Billa asked and frowned as she noticed the grave expressions on the Dwarves’ faces. “Oh please, don’t tell me it as something bad? Are we in danger? Should I try speaking to Thorin about this?”

Balin gave her a tired smile and placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry lass, our situation is actually turning to the better.”

That reassurance wasn’t entirely convincing to Billa, so she glanced at the other two. Óin wasn’t looking at her and seemed to be thinking really hard about something but Dwalin shrugged and decided to explain more.

“Dáin has arrived with about five hundred of his finest warriors. Our enemies will have to think twice about starting a fight at least.”

Even Dwalin wasn’t sounding as happy as the news should make him, so Billa turned to his brother again.

“Why are you looking so glum then?”

Balin sighed and squeezed her shoulder.

“Because the outcome of this is still very much uncertain, and strength in numbers does not guarantee a victory in a situation like this. What is likely to happen is a stalemate. The armies of Men and Elves lie between us and Dáin, so he cannot reach us without fighting his way through them. Then there’s the matter of supplies. We have enough to survive on for a long time, but winter is upon us. We will need fresh supplies soon enough, against the cold and malnourishment, and it might be hard to get them besieged like this.”

“And herbs”” Óin threw in. “Fresh meat and vegetables. We will not starve but the mountain is barren after Smaug’s influence. We will need more to not grow too ill and weak to fight if this drags on through the winter.”

Billa stared at Óin in shock. She had barely considered the winter in her previous worries. She glanced at the brothers for confirmation, seeing how Dwalin glanced away and how Balin nodded slightly.

“What will happen if it comes to war?” she asked, “I really don’t want to have any more of that Just the battles with the Gobblins and the Orcs are enough to last a lifetime!”

“I am sure that Thorin will find a way to sneak you out of the mountain and to safety. He will not risk your life by making you fight against Men and Elves,” Balin reassured her. “You can take as much treasure as you can and flee to the Shire or any safe place you know.”

“But what about you?”

“He will expect us to stay by his side, which we will do gladly, no matter the outcome.”

“So ask Thorin to reconsider all of this?” she tried. Surely the Dwarves understood that they couldn’t possibly let it go that far, no matter how little they wanted to give up their gold.

“Surely he will see reason and talk to them? He will listen to you! I know, I’m not exactly experienced in the matters of war, but he will trust your judgement.”

“Oh lassie, you are overestimating our influence,” Balin sighed and ran his fingers through the coins near him. “He won’t give up anything under threat, and I fear there is little we could do, even if he were willing. Dáin is cut off from us, and the Elves and Men have the power to take whatever they wish if they get inside, with no regard for _what_ it is, or how much. No, this situation is slipping out of our control.”

“Can’t you at least try to find a way to make this better?” Billa pleaded.

Balin shook his head.

“I have already tried. But I do not know what we could do, and by now Thorin is refusing to do _anything_ before the Men have showed at least some good will, or what he’d consider as such. I fear Thorin might actually be the one to attack first, if he feels too threatened, and thinks it’s the best way to protect Erebor and our people’s treasure. A battle is inevitable with both sides being so stubborn and having the means to just _stay_ where they are.”

Billa turned away from him, trying very hard not to imagine what might befall them. Nothing that crossed her mind seemed less bad than the other images, and her heart clenched out of fear about what was to come.

Balin looked around, eyes lingering on every member of the company, before he leaned closer to the Hobbit.

“It really is not my place to talk about this, since Thorin is my King, but you are his… intended. I worry for him, he is not himself anymore, he is out of focus and his mind wanders and clings to his treasure. I fear he is getting worse too, I do not know what to do, or what _he_ might do if things don’t get better soon.”

He paused to look around again, and Billa nodded gravely.

“I understand what Erebor means to you, and that you Dwarves are drawn to the treasure, but now he is treating me… He was never like this on the journey. He is focusing on the gold so much, and sometimes I feel like he forgets what I am telling him, as if he forgets that I’m not just his treasure or…”

She blushed but Balin seemed to understand.

“I know what people say of Dwarves, but this isn’t normal. Thorin is too fixated on the treasure to do anything else now. I fear it is a lot like King Thror at his worst, when he was barely fit to snap out of it for the sake of his people. And now the dragon’s influence is making the treasure so much more mesmerizing as well. Thorin is losing his mind for it.”

Before Billa could reply to that Dwalin sat up a little straighter and glared at his older brother.

“It really _isn’t_ your place to imply that Thorin is going insane!” he growled. “Or that he can’t lead us anymore.”

“That is the _last_ thing I wish to do, but even you must agree that Thorin isn’t behaving like a King should right now. I too wouldn’t give up the treasure in this situation, but Thorin _needs_ to focus on the safety of his subjects now, on those who he can do anything about at least. He can’t fix what’s going on, but he also can’t just spend his days on a futile search for the Arkenstone in this mountain,” Balin snapped, voice raising in irritation, as he gestured at the piles of gold around them.

“And even if he had no responsibility whatsoever, the way he behaves towards his _family_ right now is simply outrageous! You might not notice, but how he’s changed in the way he behaves around our little Billa here… Any Dwarf should be ashamed to treat their intended this way.”

He squeezed Billa’s shoulder again, and her cheeks burned in embarrassment. Thankfully he noticed.

“I am sorry, but I have seen the ways he treated you during our journey and now. No Dwarf would ignore his sister or wife’s concerns like this, not if she is a grown woman and has proven herself as you did. He used to listen to you, to make efforts when he couldn’t understand, but now he can’t seem to gather the energy to just _listen_. A Dwarf would not treat his intended as an _actual_ part of his treasure. No, a wife is more important, all the gems and treasures are there to highlight _her_ , not the other way round. He might not even be aware of it, but he has been treating you like this.”

Balin leaned back and released the hobbit’s shoulder, Dwalin looked at his feet, scowling at having to listen to the details of his friend’s behaviour. Billa watched them, unsure of how to reply to that little outburst, and the older gave her a crooked smile.

“Don’t worry _too_ much though. It will all look better in the morning, and Thorin should feel more at ease with Dáin nearby. It is better to go sleep over this, and not stay up to worry all night about things we can’t change.”

He started to get up, and Dwalin and Óin joined as well. Billa sighed and nodded.

“You are right…”

“Things will be better, you’ll see. And Thorin will soon be the Dwarf he was,” Balin promised with a wink.

Billa wished them all a good night and returned to her bedroll, her heart feeling heavy again.

She could not fall asleep, even as the rest of the company settled in their bedrolls and their snores started to fill the air. The idea of a battle and full blown war was unsettling and sounded terrible to the little Hobbit who’d even been startled by the violence they’d encountered on the journey. But it gave her enough to fuel her imagination and think of something of the scale she’d read about in history tomes. She did not want her friends to be involved in that, and from what Billa knew Elves and Men were good warriors, enough to harm her Dwarves. How likely was it that one of the company was injured or even killed? She dared not think of it.

Between Bard and the Elvenking and Thorin it was only a matter of time before the battle started. Oh how she wished Gandalf was there to talk some sense into the Men and find a way for everyone to stop being stubborn and just _talk_.

But even if Thorin didn’t see her as he had before, and didn’t love her in the way she wished he would, Billa wouldn’t want to see any harm come to him. She wished he were a Hobbit then, just a little more like her own kin, not a king of a broken kingdom. She’d have to worry so much less if he were that, and might even get enough sleep every once in a while.

Nobody Billa knew from the Shire would even know what to do with all the piles of gold. If it were good material, or precious objects of more use… Hobbits might just let the Men take what they wanted rather than trying to figure out what to do with the treasure, they would have readily offered friendship and assistance as long as there was no threat coming from the Tall Folk. They’d offer tea and a good meal and sit down to talk it through at the very least.

And why couldn’t they still do this? Thorin was too stubborn to see reason and agree to listen to the hosts lying in wait before the gates. He would not give his treasure away to them. But Billa couldn’t care less for how rude anyone was being, or what they thought of her. She had her own share of the treasure too, more than enough to cover what Bard had asked for. He was practical enough, he would not care that it was a Hobbit and not a Dwarf who brought him what he needed, and he would surely listen and wait if Billa managed to explain the situation.

If she did it, Billa might end up with nothing to show for after those past months of hardships. Not a coin from her share, and perhaps not even the Dwarves’ friendship either. But at least she would know that her new little family was safe.

The decision was made and already Billa was planning how to go through with it. She sat up carefully, trying not to send any coins flying and glanced to where the others slept in the dark. There were only two lamps burning on a low flame, and she could not see any sign of anyone else awake.

She pulled her bag closer and started digging for some rope. Her fingers brushed over the edges of the old blanket that hid the Arkenstone and she halted for a second. Giving it away would force Thorin to exchange the gold asked for, and it would ensure that the Men would get what was promised. Better than the word of some little Hobbit perhaps.

The thought had passed as soon as it was born. There was no way Billa could enrage Thorin like this on purpose, not after all what she was about to do already. She still loved him, and her treachery would hurt him as it was now. Even if it’d make him hate her anyway, she could not do it.

Instead she grabbed a handful of especially-valuable-looking jewels and necklaces that lay around near her and stuffed her pockets with them. That and her word had to do it.

When she had gathered all she’d need for her climb down the mountain her gaze fell on the beautiful mail shirt Thorin had gifted her. She’d taken it off to go to sleep that day, but it might be that she’d have to leave the company very soon. She wouldn’t want to lose the last sincere gift Thorin had given to her in her haste to get away. And it would provide some protection outside of the mountain as well.

She slipped it over her head quickly, before sneaking towards the gate to find an opportunity to leave the mountain as quietly as she could.

 

*

It was very late when Billa finally dared to approach Bombur in his watch. She reassured him that she’d take over, and he gratefully left to return to the warmth of the mountain to sleep as well. As soon as she was sure that she was alone she unwrapped the rope she’d hidden under her coat, slipped on her magic ring, and set to make her way to the camp of Men.

It had been surprisingly easy to not wake any of her friends since usually somebody had always spotted her when she got up to walk around. And later she had come to share her bedroll with Thorin, held tight in his arms. He’d woken every time she started stirring too much, petting her hair, or watching her cautiously as if he feared she’d get up and leave him, or that something might happen if she strayed too far from the company.

The memory of those nights and early mornings made Billa’s eyes sting but she blinked furiously, not permitting her tears to fall. The fact that Thorin didn’t hold her in his arms anymore when they slept was just one of the reasons why she felt she needed to climb down and go through with this. Thorin had changed too much for her to bear, even before their argument had made it worse.

It wasn’t just awe of being home again, or the relief of being relatively safe. It pained her to see how the gold was pulling Thorin in, how he searched and stopped to examine the gold, to polish already perfect gems and counting coins that scattered under each of his steps.

And of course, she hadn’t been that much better at first, Billa thought as she carefully made her way down through the rocks. The fascination of the gold had worn off after a while though, and most of it wasn’t as pretty just lying in a mess. The other Dwarves were entranced too, but none of them had changed in the way they treated her. Or perhaps they had, and she didn’t realize because the change wasn’t as drastic to her, who had grown so used to Thorin being gentle and loving.

Maybe it was as Balin had said? If Thorin was so focused on his gold, and if he now saw Billa as part of his treasure she stood no chance to regain his love. Not the way it used to be.

It was a dark and moonless night, and even the stars looked dim and bleak, reflecting Billa’s emotions perfectly. She stumbled over loose stones and nearly overlooked narrow cracks and edges on the rock several times. Despite trying to stay as quiet as possible she couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief when her feet finally touched soft soil and grass. She had missed that after the hard rocks of Erebor; the Dwarven kingdom so unlike anything a Hobbit might be used to.

But now she had to take care not to be spotted by the army’s guards rather than stumbling over rocks. Even the magic ring wouldn’t prevent her from being caught if she made herself too noticeable.

She made her way towards the little river behind which she had seen the Men camping, wrinkling her nose as she realized that it was way deeper and wider than she had originally thought. Billa didn’t like the fast streams they’d encountered on the journey, and somebody had always carried or helped her cross them before. But now she had no Dwarf to do that for her.

Billa walked near the riverbank, searching for a place that seemed safe to cross, something where the water wasn’t too deep and where there were stones to jump over maybe. She grimaced when she finally spotted a place like that. The stones looked slippery in the dark, and the current was quicker than she would have liked.

There was no use in scowling and wishing for a better place though, so Billa took a deep breath and leaped before she could think better. She landed on the first stone, barely swaying at all, and even after the second leap her feet landed firmly on the next wet rock. She jumped again and again, and each time she managed to do so without losing her balance or making too much noise on the rocks.

She was just starting to feel confident in this, and there were only a few stones left. Fíli and Kíli had always made fun of her for not being able to cross a stream without a scared expression and clinging to someone who wasn’t afraid. The thought of having proved them wrong made Billa smile smugly.

With only three leaps left before the firm ground she was just about to congratulate herself on her success, which was exactly when the rock under her foot gave way and shifted enough to make her lose her balance. With a startled yelp Billa flailed and tried her best to stand upright again.

It was no use; the stones splashed into the water and then she was falling as well. The water was icy and dark, pushing the air out of her lungs at the impact, and then the current was pulling her under and away from the surface.


	3. Love and Fury

It could only have been a couple of moments which Billa spent in the water, struggling to reach the surface, trying to make sense of how ‘up’ seemed to be changing positions as she struggled, but it was a couple of moments she could easily have lived without.

Her salvation was the two elvish guards who had heard her fall into the river as they made their rounds. They came to investigate and make sure that it was nothing serious, and as one of them reached into the water his hand wrapped around Billa’s sleeve and easily pulled her up.

Even in the confusion of the current and the pull Billa did have enough presence of mind to slip her magic ring off her finger and into her pocket, just in time to avoid even more suspicion.

Coughing and trying to regain her sense of direction, Billa opened her eyes and blinked up at the two perplexed faces staring back at her, holding the tiny shivering woman several feet above the ground. In any other situation (one in which Billa wasn’t said tiny shivering woman) it might have amused her.

She had to clear her throat and snap about how she was _freezing_ before the Elves finally snapped out of it and put her back on her feet before deciding what to do. Luckily the older looking of the two decided to believe Billa as she insisted that she was part of the Dwarvish company living in the mountain, and that she had come to speak to their King. She was small and dripping icy water; not enough of a threat to keep her from their leaders apparently.

And it happened that only few minutes after falling into the water Billa was sitting wrapped into a big blanket in the tent of the Kings, a bowl of hot stew in her hands and her feet stretched towards the brazier. What a strange picture she must make, with her messy curls and the ragged dress, a beautiful and precious mail shirt glittering under her worn coat. She heard people whisper and stare from outside before the guards ushered them away, but she ignored them and ate under the hard gazes of the Man and the Elf by her side.

They didn’t speak while she ate, and she was grateful for the little break of proper food that wasn’t _cram_. Bard knew her enough to let her do so, and the Elf seemed content to watch her with his eerie direct stare.

“I was certain that none of Thorin’s company would leave the mountain so easily,” Bard finally spoke after Billa put her bowl on the seat by her side “so why are you here, little Hobbit?”

He stood near her, not too close for her to have to crane her neck up too much. Thranduil remained where he was on his long cushioned bench, still watching.

“I think it’s clear that this whole situation is a dreadful business,” Billa started. “With the dragon and the siege and Thorin not wanting to bargain while things are as they are now. All of you are being too stubborn and won’t back off enough for the others to feel like things are going well. So I decided to take up the task and solve this myself.”

“Yourself,” Bard gave her a curious look, his eyes narrowing as he took her in. “You are not acting on Thorin’s behalf now, yes? He was not the one who sent you.”

“No, he didn’t” Billa huffed. “As I said, he doesn’t feel like negotiating with you like this, so I feel it’s my duty to solve this for him.”

“You would betray your King?” Thranduil asked softly, and Billa shook her head quickly, icy water dripping from her curls at the motion.

“Of course not! There is nothing I’d want less than to betray my company, on the contrary. But we Hobbits are a simple folk, and all this political nonsense that makes it impossible for either of you to act without feeling like you’re backing down… It does not concern me. But this mess might lead to battle and I’d rather solve this before something drastic happens.”

“So you will tell your Dwarf friends to stop clutching their gold and give us what we have come for?” Thranduil asked again, a slight disbelieving smile playing on his lips. “You think you can convince them to give my friends here what they need to rebuild their town and old city, and what is theirs by right? They have nothing now, apart from Elvish help, and I would doubt that Thorin would part with a single coin willingly. What makes you think you can make that Dwarf see reason?”

She felt as if the King was sizing her up, and it made her want to prove herself all the more.

“He will not give a single coin as long as it feels as if he was forced under threat. You shouldn’t have to start a battle out of stubbornness…”

“If you worry about the battle, let me assure you, I would not want to subject our peoples to such violence. If your Thorin and that little army of his won’t strike first, there won’t be a fight at all.”

“But what of the winter?” Billa tried, remembering what Balin had told her. “If this siege goes on, your supplies will run short! We have enough to last, but it will get cold and the winters here must be so much harsher than in the Shire? I can’t imagine you’d want to suffer that for nothing. This is avoidable, so why let it come to this.”

She looked at Bard, eyes in a plea to have him understand, but he had a hard look directed at no one in particular. He was worried about his people, that was why he had come with his demands so soon in the first place. He was a good leader, he worried for his people much like Thorin had before he started to grow absent and change.

“I can make you an offer,” Billa started and slid from her seat. “Thorin will not part from his gold under threat, and neither of the Dwarves will consider doing anything against his orders. But listen, I have signed a contract before joining the company. The dragon is dead and Erebor is reclaimed, which means I have my own share of the gold, free to spent as I please. It is so much more than a Hobbit could ever dream to use, but I could give it away, to those Thorin might call his enemies. I can give it away to be used to rebuild a city, and prevent a silly war over such a matter.”

The bowman gave her a surprised and doubtful look.

“You would just give your share away like that? After all you’ve gone through for it?”

“Well, I _would_ keep enough coins to get me to the Shire in safety, or maybe a trinket for the memories. But what use do I have for a mountain of gold? None. I could not even _carry_ it with me,” Billa tried to laugh it off. Perhaps there wouldn’t have been a need to plan the journey back to the West before, but she doubted this would matter anyway.

“Here, have this as proof!”

She dug her hands into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out the necklaces and gems she’d stolen from the horde, and took a few steps to drop them into Bard’s hands.

“Forgive me, it’s not much, but I simply couldn’t carry more than fits into my pockets. I’d rather give this away to soothe your conflict than try to take even more with me.”

The men stared at the gold, both slightly baffled by it, and for a moment Billa wondered whether it was just the surprise or whether what she’d picked was worth far more than she had initially thought. Then Bard let out a hoarse laugh.

“Remarkable, truly,” he said when the laughing stopped, “you Hobbits are not what I expected at all.”

“Indeed,” Thranduil whispered and leaned closer still to examine what Bard held up to show him. The look he gave Billa after was a little friendlier than before, and Billa felt like she’d accomplished a great feat still.

“Mithrandir has spoken fondly of your kind, and it seems that he hasn’t been overstating. You risked much by just coming here, Dwarves are wrathful and I would not recommend to have one’s scorn focus in your direction.”

He gathered his long silver robes in his hand and slid off his bench gracefully, kneeling on the rugs and getting as close to Billa’s eye level as possible for an Elf as tall as him.

“I do doubt that the Dwarves would try keeping you from spending your share as you wish, if you do indeed have a contract like you said. But once Thorin Oakenshield finds out about what you have done, his scorn will fall upon you.”

Billa pressed her lips together and bowed her head slightly.

“I can’t control his emotions, so there is no use in worrying about that. This might well save his life, and that of his company and many others. It’s enough for me; I do not need his friendship as well,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Her heartbreak was the last thing she wanted the Elvenking to be concerned about.

Thranduil smiled slightly, and she was sure he could tell what was on the Hobbit’s mind and what her relationship to his old rival actually was.

“I do wish you luck then, little Burglar, and may everything turn out for the best after all.”

He stood up, joining Bard. They watched Billa, with varying degrees of concern showing on their faces, before both looked up to stare at something behind her, in the tent’s opening. Yet Billa paid no mind to it.

“If you excuse me, I should return to the mountain before anyone notices I’m not there,” she muttered and turned without waiting for their replies.

She nearly ran into the figure blocking the way, and as she looked up she was greeted by a great grey beard and her old friend’s smile.

“Gandalf?” she let out, the old wizard being the last one she’d thought to meet there.

He winked at her, and nodded to the men in the tent as he put his hand on Billa’s shoulder, gently pushing her away from the Kings. She was just glad to at least know he was close by as everything was happening.

“My dear old friend, you did the right thing, so I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had chosen to stay with the company after all,” he said quietly, sounding half proud, half amused as he watched Billa and took in the state she was in.

Billa sighed at the words.

“If you had been there to make Thorin see sense I wouldn’t have to do this at all.”

“I’m afraid no power in the world would make Thorin change anything, nor these two Kings over there.” He snorted and Billa thought he sounded way too amused for all of this. She till nodded at his words.

“But tell me, what is that old fool doing in the mountain? Shouldn’t the Dwarves be up on the battlements, readying the gates? Don’t tell me he’s still looking for that damned old stone of his grandfather?”

Billa looked at the wizard’s face and then back at her feet.

“He is,” she said, “but it…” she paused, unsure of what she could tell him.

Gandalf was looking at her expectantly and she could see Thranduil still watching from the corner of her eye.

“The King will not find it among his treasures. I have already done so, just after we arrived inside of the mountain.”

“Oh did you know?” Gandalf sounded a little surprised, but not as much as Billa would have thought he’d be. He gave her a strange look. “Why haven’t you given it to Thorin then? Or for that matter, why haven’t you traded _that_ to the Men? Thorin might be much more ready to agree to give his own gold to get it back.”

“Because…” she fumbled with her dress and tried to find the right words. How could she explain the reasons that even sounded silly inside her own head?

“The stone still _matters_ to him. It was his grandfather’s…” she finally muttered. “And even if he doesn’t care for anything else anymore, I would give all my riches to keep him safe. I would not give away something that’d hurt him so much either way. I will… I’ll give Thorin the Arkenstone before I leave. Perhaps he’ll even forgive me a little then.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, and from behind her Billa could hear Thranduil making a weird little noise that sounded like an amused snort. They both seemed to find the situation _funny_ and that annoyed her too much to even tell them off for it.

“Well then, my dear Billa. Hurry back into the mountain before all your friends wake up. And don’t leave without a goodbye and on good terms. Who knows, you might see them again after your return to the Shire.”

Gandalf said those words lightly, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all, but the thought of never seeing Thorin or the other Dwarves again made Billa’s heart clench.

She glanced back to where Bard had crossed his arms over his chest and watched the other two with a displeased frown. The Elvenking smiled at Billa though, and this time it really looked friendly, though there still was something of a barely concealed smirk in it.

“Farewell, little Hobbit. I am sure that the… situation between you and that stubborn Dwarf will turn out well. Even he has enough honour in him to not dismiss the sacrifices you are making for him.”

Billa gave him a suspicious look. The Elf seemed to be taking way too much pleasure from the thought of her betraying Thorin in such a way, but perhaps it was just his old rivalry making him wish for unpleasant things to happen to the Dwarf.

Bard gave the Elf and the wizard a questioning look, and Billa was glad that she wasn’t the only one puzzled by their behaviour. The Man turned towards her then and nodded curtly.

“Be safe, Burglar. I wish you good luck with the Dwarves, and know that you most certainly have prevented unnecessary deaths.”

“Thank you. I wish you luck with your people,” Billa said and made a small curtsey before she turned and ran to leave the camp of Tall People as quick as she could.

*

The horizon was already turning light grey when Billa finally managed to finish the climb up the rocks to Erebor’s entrance. She was tired by then, and her legs ached from the effort, the promise of a few hours of sleep before she had to leave making her dizzy with relief.

Nobody was standing watch at the gate, which was strange but wouldn’t be the first time somebody had overslept, and Billa was too tired to question it. She walked through the halls towards the treasuries where the others would still be fast asleep.

The lamps were already burning when she reached the first plies of gold, and she could hear a noise. It sounded as if heavy things were being thrown around, followed by the clatter of coins that made her wince. Apart from that it was eerily quiet, with none of the usual teasing, joking or singing to be heard over heavy steps pacing back and forth.

It filled Billa with dread, but she walked on bravely, following the sound.

She did not step into view when she finally found the Dwarves standing by the wall where the weapons were displayed, glancing around the corner cautiously to see what was happening.

The Dwarves were standing close to the gold near her, and it looked as if they were making place for something, all staring at their feet with grave and sorrowful expressions.

Bofur and Ori were the closest to the path Billa had taken, and they were the first to see the Hobbit.

They quickly stepped towards her, Ori with terrified wide eyes and an apologetic expression, and Bofur with outstretched arms as if to keep her from coming any closer.

“What-?” she whispered, looking over their shoulders to see how the other Dwarves were turning towards her with wide eyes. Before anyone else could speak or explain a strange roar rose at the furthest wall of the display.

“YOU! You traitor _dare_ to come back here?!”

Billa flinched back at the sound.

There was Thorin, standing amongst scattered goblets and overturned figurines, his hair in a messy mane around his head, his face twisted in pain. For a split second Billa actually thought that he was wounded, but then she recognised how his mouth was twisted in a snarl. Thorin’s right hand was twitching over the hilt of his sword, ready to grasp it, the other clutching a small bundle.

The glare directed at her was truly terrifying.

“W-well, I haven’t done anything wrong, so I don’t see a reason for you to be shouting like this,” Billa said pertly, feigning calm.

Thorin sneered and turned to those closest to her.

“Bring that accursed Burglar to me! Now!”

Bofur hesitated and placed a hand on Billa’s arm, ready to pull her against his chest to shield her, or to push her away to where she’d come from, and Ori was looking pale, shaking his head slightly.

“Did you not hear my command!? Bring that traitor to me, let her face the consequences of her treachery!” Thorin shuddered, eyes darting back and forth between his company, until he turned to Dwalin, who stood closest to him, arms crossed with a murderous expression. But even the King’s most loyal friend seemed hesitant about dragging the tiny Hobbit forwards.

“Oh, no need for that!”

Billa stiffened her back and stepped forward, into the circle of Dwarves, with her chin turned up and knowing that she hadn’t done anything that felt wrong to her, no matter what Thorin might say. She felt Bofur’s hands linger on her arm before he let her go, and she heard Ori whispering, “sorry, I am so sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to-“ but she paid them no mind.

She stepped towards the King, somehow feeling less anxious despite the vicious look he was giving her. What could he possibly do to her after all?

“What is it you accuse me off?” she asked, and was proud of how calm she sounded.

“ _This_ ” Thorin hissed and shook the bundle in his hand before her face. “You truly are a thief and a traitor, and that _you_ of all people have done this to us!”

He dashed the bundle at Billa, who barely managed to raise her hands to catch it as it hit her chest. It was heavy, and the material was so familiar, she knew what it was even before she looked down.

And really, a tug on her old blanket and the Arkenstone’s beautiful and eerie light shone on all of them. The sight of it made Billa’s heart drop, as this had been her intended parting gift. At least stealing it hadn’t been her plan, so she could not be blamed for that particular crime.

She looked up, managing to keep her face unfazed as he met Thorin’s eye. He was still breathing hard, pain and anger, completely focused on her, and not the gem. What a bitter thought, to know he still could do that.

“It was only discovered by chance, or you might have gotten away with this. Do you not understand how grave your crime was? You tried to steal the King’s Jewel, heirloom of the Line of Thror, _my_ gem, do you even-“ he growled, giving her a hard glare. “And then you’ve been seen leaving the mountain as well.”

He straightened then, looking calm but still as if he was ready to jump to attack.

“You have one chance to explain yourself, one chance to come up with an excuse or prove that you aren’t a traitor. What did you do there; did you go to see the Men and those damned Elves? Tell me Billa.”

There was a plea in his eyes, as if he still did not wish to believe this of her, despite of his harsh tone.

Billa gritted her teeth, trying not to snap at Thorin and worsen her situation more than was strictly necessary.”

“Yes,” she stated without breaking eye contact. “I have been to the camp of Men, and I have spoken to their leader, Bard the Dragonslayer, and to the Elfking of Mirkwood as well.”

Thorin’s face twitched at that, and he gave Billa a near desperate look, nearly draining out his anger from before, but Billa would not let him interrupt her.

“I have reached an agreement, and I will give away my gold, the full amount they are demanding of _you_ , and in turn they will take their hosts and leave your Dwarves to your mountain. I went there to prevent this conflict and a possible war, which you stubborn fools would have started if left to your own devices.”

For a moment all Thorin could do was stare at her, mouth hanging open in shock, and a tiny part of Billa was taking malicious pleasure from that, after all Thorin had said and done (or rather _not_ done) in the last few days. Just seconds later she found herself regretting it, as the Dwarf’s eyes suddenly flashed in fury and he grabbed her with a enraged roar and shook her like one would shake a disobeying dog.

“YOU _DARE_ , HALFLING?!” He screamed. “You dare trying to steal my gold, you dare conspire with those who’d steal my people’s treasure if they could? After all we’ve scarified for it? You… after all this time you… Or has this been your intention all along?”

He snarled in her face, the whites of his eyes visible around his irises. The grip on her shoulders and the shakes were hard enough to bring tears to Billa’s eyes and made her gasp in startled pain. 

“Did you sit in that damn Elf’s palace and laugh about what fools we are as we sat rotting in his cells?”

She could barely see the terror on the other Dwarves’ faces as they dared not move towards their mad King. Billa’s head jerked with each shake and she was sure Thorin’s grip might end up bruising her arms, and still he would not release her.

“The old doter recommended a burglar and forgot to mention who you’d steal for. Do you hate us Dwarves so much that you’d commit this sort of crime? I will banish you for this, you cursed creature!” Thorin hissed, and the hateful look he was giving Billa was simply too much.

“Enough!” she snapped and wrestled herself free from his grip.

“It is you who’s a fool and a thief, Thorin Oakenshield!” she shouted back at him, eyes shooting daggers. “I have never once wished to harm you, even if my actions would have been well within my right!”

“There,” she swatted the Arkenstone back at him, and he nearly let it drop in his surprise.

“I had intended to give it to you as I said my farewell, so you’d have at least one happy memory left of me!”

Thorin stared at her when she said it, with the look of someone who was trying to see through a fog. But now that she had started she could not bring herself to stop, her voice growing louder as she ignored his expression and how her friends were staring as well.

“And the gold I have promised the Men and the Elves is not even yours! It is my own share of the treasure I promised to give away, the part that is mine according to your contract. I planned to bring them all I could before leaving for good. Do you not understand, Thorin Oakenshield? I love you even though you must hate me now, more than anyone before, and think me a traitor. But at least I’d know that you’d be _alive_ to think this of me.”

“You… you really did promise them _your_ gold?” he asked in a tiny voice, and his shoulders slumped a bit.

“Are you deaf as well as a fool? Yes! I would give all the gold of Arda if it’d just give me a chance of seeing you safe. I would even have given the Arkenstone if it were the only possible way. I still love you more than any treasure I could ever have gathered, even if you so obviously love all of _this_ more instead, and though you forgot about all you’ve felt for me before.”

Billa had to pause there, realizing that hot tears were streaming down her cheeks. She rubbed at her face furiously; trying to dry them off to not have the company see her like that. She could hear them whisper in a shocked and awed tone, but she paid no mind to it.

“I would… I would even give away all I have back in the Shire. I would rather live alone as a vagrant with no place to call home and no coin to my name, and with you hating me even as I love you, as long as you and my friends are just _safe_. It’s so little a price to pay for life.”

A hiss went through the row of Dwarves, and as Billa looked up she saw them staring again, some watching her with disbelief, others glaring at their King. The youngest seemed in awe, watching with their mouths open. Dwalin was glancing between her and Thorin, lips moving and a strangely comical expression on his face.

Thorin himself looked as if she’d struck him in the face. He blinked, as if he was only now seeing the Hobbit for the first time. He reached out to touch her again, but Billa twitched back from his hands, not willing to let him come anywhere near her so soon.

“Billa… Billa…” he called, voice broken and thick with guilt. She shook her head angrily, curls bouncing, not wanting to hear anything he might have to say. “Billa. Please, just look at me-“

Billa did so after all. He’d used her name for the first time in too long a time, and she’d missed the sound of it too much. It looked as if somebody had placed a great weight on his shoulders, and he was watching her with such a sorrowful and horrified expression that it made her heart ache for him, despite knowing that she really should not be feeling sorry for the Dwarf. Even if his eyes were clearer than they had been ever since the mountain was reclaimed.

He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find words, as Billa made to carefully take a tiny step towards him.

But before either of them could say another words the sounds of war horns startled everyone out of the moment. Even as the last echoes were slowly fading away there was a clinking in the piles of treasure close to them and Nori was sliding and stumbling towards them as quick as he could, eyes wide in terror.

“ _Orcs_!” he called out, gesturing behind him. “And Goblins! At the foot of the mountain.”

“What,” Thorin muttered warily as he tried to make sense of the words and Balin narrowed his eyes a little.

“What are you talking about, laddie?”

“We are under attack,” Nori heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “The Men and Elves are facing them, and Dáin’s joining in, too!”

Billa could barely look away from him to glance back at her companions and the looks of terror and confusion around her.

“How many,” Dwalin asked, the first to get over the disbelief and focus on the words.

“Damned if I know, I’ve _never_ seen so many in once place, Orcs, and Warg riders, coming from all directions. The armies will be overrun, and I think they’re heading straight to the mountain.”

Nori looked straight at Thorin, who seemed to be frozen in shock, eyes hard and voice grave.

“Even if we act now… I think we might just lose Erebor for good.”


	4. To Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> panic and descriptions of violence in this chapter

Everything was a rush after Nori’s announcement. Thorin insisted on taking a look himself as soon as Nori’s words got through to him. He ran towards the nearest balconies, shouting orders all the way. The Dwarves quickly stormed off towards their campsite, to retrieve their weapons and armour.

Billa took a moment to just breathe as everyone hurried around her. There would be a battle after all, after all she’d tried to do, after daring to hope, and she was so angry she could have _screamed_.

She had no idea whether she could even fight like this, but there was no question about joining. Instead of waiting around for somebody to tell her what to do Billa walked over to the display of armour and picked up a helmet and shield that were small enough to suit her. She had no idea whether they were good or would offer much protection, but it was better than nothing, and she would not disrupt the preparations to ask.

After her defence had been taken care of, Billa dashed over to her bag where she’d left Sting and buckled its belt around her hips. As soon as her armour was assembled she ran towards the direction she’d seen Thorin and the rest leave, hoping that she’d catch up and find out about at least the semblance of a battle plan.

She didn’t need to run for long; Thorin was already walking back, dictating messages to Balin and a small flock of Ravens, who all were struggling to keep pace while listening.

“Send word to Dáin, tell him to focus on the northern flank of the Men’s army, I do not know whether they’d seen the Wargs from the direction. And make sure to let the Elves and Men know that we will fight on their side to the last. We’ll have time for formalities when this is over.”

He stopped abruptly when he saw Billa, and his stare made her want to avert her eyes. Thorin glanced to where Balin was giving some last instructions to the Ravens, then he stalked over to Billa, refraining from touching her when he noticed how her shoulders tensed.

“Who gave you this armour?” he asked darkly, looking her up and down.

Billa bit her lip and tilted her chin up before giving her reply.

“I took it myself. Do you think I’m silly enough to march out into battle without protection? Don’t worry though, I’ll return it to you afterwards in as good a shape I can manage.”

The look on Thorin’s face was one of pure terror, and he raised his hands as if to touch her face and plead.

“Stay out of the battle, Billa! You can’t join down there.”

“Why not? You know very well that I can fight.”

“There is no time to argue, stay in Erebor. Do not leave, I do not want to see you down there.”

“The battlefield will be large enough, you won’t have to face me and I’ll make sure to leave as soon as it’s over. Wouldn’t want to impose-“

“ _NO_ , you foolish Halfling!” He cried, and finally dared grabbing her shoulders again, distress evident on his face. “This is nothing like what you’ve seen on the journey. Those Orcs outnumber us, and even we experienced warriors might not live to see the end of this. A Hobbit like you will have no-“

He choked on his words, trying to start his sentence again.

“One or two Orcs of that kind are already too much for one like you to hope to escape, and there is an _army_ down there, waiting to slaughter anything that comes within their reach. You must be daft to think that you could- I can’t bear the thought of you fighting down there.”

His voice hitched and he turned his face away from Billa so she wouldn’t see his look. She stared, baffled by the display. To have him show his worry in such a manner… even before they had come to Erebor he’d have hardly done so like this. She tried to take a better look at his face, but his hair had fallen so that it was obscuring it from view, so Billa finally sighed and tried to speak as calmly as she could.

“I can’t stay here and do _nothing_ while you fight. I cannot bear the thought of not knowing what happens to you, of not being able to help.”

Thorin turned back to give her a pleading look but she stared back calmly. They watched each other like that, waiting for the other to give in first. Finally Thorin’s shoulders slumped in a sigh and he shook his head.

“I see there is nothing short of locking you up to keep you from going where you’ve put your mind to. But you _have_ to promise me to stay back on the battlefield. Go where the archers have positioned themselves and do not leave them!”

Billa opened her mouth to protest, but Thorin went on, urgency in his voice.

“Please, I ask for nothing more. The Elvenking will be there, and Gandalf. Those two are the most likely to survive, and they will keep you safe. Promise me Billa, my heart would be so much lighter if I knew that nothing you can’t protect yourself from can befall you.”

The grip on her shoulders tightened, but Billa could feel how Thorin was trying to keep his hands from shaking and clenching too hard. His request was understandable, as much as Billa wished it weren’t. She wanted to stay with her friends, and part of her wanted to deny him that request out of spite.

“Fine,” she finally said. “I will do my best to keep out of avoidable danger.”

Thorin sighed in relief and squeezed her briefly.

“Thank you. May Mahal watch over you and grant us all the chance to live without parting in bad blood.”

Thorin bowed his head briefly, closing his eyes in his prayer, before quickly turning on his heels towards where his company was checking each other’s armour for the last time. Billa watched him go and felt a cold dread settle in her heart, as she realized that this might well be the last time she saw any of them alive.

*

The battle had started without them, already a clash of violence and the armies. Waves of Orcs and Goblins were crashing against the lines of Men and Elves, pouring in towards the mountain from all directions, while even more lines of the tall ones and the Dwarves of the Iron Hills ran out to meet them. Others tried to position themselves in formations to try and prevent the attackers from encircling and trapping them.

Billa had barely seen much of it while she’d tried to reach the place where the Elves’ archers had positioned themselves. When the company had rushed out of the gates screaming there had been enough warriors holding off their enemies, so she had managed to get there just fine. It had only been a matter of time, and Billa was glad that no Orc had come too close.

The clang of metal on metal and flesh and the shouting carried over to the little hill with the archers even so, the distance not mattering at all with the sheer size of the battle. It made her fear for her friends’ lives enough to forget that the hill could be under attack any second now.

Gandalf sat right by her side, staff and sword lying besides him, ready to be picked up and used in just a moments notice. He seemed remarkably unfazed by all of this, though maybe he just found that worrying before he could join the fight was useless. He had experience in battles, hadn’t he? Occasionally he’d frown slightly, and glanced towards the horizon, but that was all he did, while Billa trembled nervously and tried to see what was going on.

Thranduil was positioned only a few feet away, face calm but eyes roaming over the battlefield, planning and watching his soldiers.

Clutching Sting’s hilt and trying not to pace back and forth was all Billa could do where she was. She lacked the knowledge or confidence of commanding an army to be as calm as those two men, and it grated on her nerves. She tried to spot her friends in the chaos of battle, wanted to know where everyone was before she even attempted to join in.

She didn’t relish the thought of getting lost and hurt as she tried to find them, but she also didn’t want to just stay at the side lines as it seemed cowardly to her. She needed to help.

Once in a while she thought she could catch a glimpse of a familiar silhouette or a piece of armour she’d seen in the treasury, but each time she did it was gone in a second. Still she kept brushing her fingers over the ring inside her pocket, wishing she could just slip it on and run. With Thranduil so close she would not dare though, as she still felt guilty about sneaking around his palace for so long, and stealing things from right under his nose.

And finally she saw it. The flash of blue and gold that was unmistakably Thorin’s coat, quite far away from where she was standing. There was no mistake, it was really him, surrounded by Dwarves, closest to him those of his company, spreading out on the battlefield. He was impossible to miss once his general direction was clear, and once she knew which banners were carried closest to him.

It was enough.

Gandalf called out for her, a warning perhaps, but Billa ignored it and slipped past the rows of archers, and right between the Men and Dwarves and into the battle.

It _was_ nothing like the fights she’d been in before, and even those had been overwhelming. If there was anything she might have compared it to, it would have to be the mess of the Goblin Caves, and even those had not felt as sharp and deadly.

For the first few feet she ran all Billa could do was to try and not be hit by a wayward axe or get stabbed by those few Orcs and Goblins who noticed the slim figure between the tall Elves and Men and the sturdy Dwarves. She could only try and block any blow with Sting or try to deflect them with her shield, barely daring to take her eyes of the banner that showed the position of Durin’s heirs, and at least some members of the company.

Eventually an Orc with ugly scars and armour that looked as if it had melted into his skin forced Billa to stop and fight by stepping into her way. The Orc gave her a nasty grin, certain that the tiny woman could not do anything against his raised mace. Before he could bring it down Billa made a leap right into him and stabbed Sting through his guts, immediately jumping away to catch his strike. The Orc just grunted in surprise and staggered backwards, clutching his stomach.

He did not get back up to lunge at her, and Billa ran past him, trying not to wince at the spray of black blood covering her hands and skirts. It wasn’t the last she got all over herself, as the closer she got to her friends in the thick of the battle, the more enemies actually took note of her and tried to catch and kill her.

She managed to go on, cutting and stabbing at anything that got too close and slipping past hands and weapons reaching for her, slicing through skin and leather and jumping up at Orcs that tried to knock down the warriors around her.

It was probably sheer luck that saw her mostly unharmed, with most not even noticing her, and her shield and the mithril shirt protecting her from grave injuries. Every once in a while only an arrow or Dwarvish sword intervening saved her, but most of those around her simply did not expect such a tiny person darting past them without attacking on light feet.

Eventually the living and fighting around her grew less, opening up a clearing of wounded and dying among the mess of weapons scattered all over the mud. The Orcs and Dwarves were engaged in vicious clashes there, and right in the middle of it stood Thorin, shouting orders and encouragements at his warriors and insults at the Orcs. His nephews were by his side, Kíli cutting down foes in determined precision, with Fíli at his back and swinging his swords at anyone who dared come too close to his family’s unprotected sides.

The sight of them still fighting and being mostly unharmed made Billa’s knees grow weak in relief, and she let out a sigh, followed by a pained groan as she felt the stabbing pain in her sides and the burning in her lungs. The Hobbit leaned against the carcass of a Warg, not even caring about what it was, to catch her breath and watched the three Dwarves. The sword felt too heavy in her hands, and she wondered how she’d managed to even get to this point unharmed. She wanted to join the company, wanted to fight by Thorin’s side though she knew he’d start getting mad at her for breaking her promise.

Her shield had been lost in the last few minutes of trying to get past the fighters, and she looked around, searching for something that looked light enough to pick up instead. She was terribly vulnerable here, she realized, and thought that putting on her magic ring might be a good idea after all. At least she’d be safe from deliberate blows, and Thorin would not spot her helping out.

Just as she tried to will her hand to stop trembling to reach into her pocket the howl of Wargs filled the air. It chilled her to the bone, made her want to cower in fear and it was _way_ too close.

Billa turned her head to see a wave of Orcs crashing towards the people she’d thought relatively safe just seconds before. Thorin saw it was well, his shout of rage nearly matching the Warg’s howl from before, and he threw himself at three Orcs at once. Kíli switched to his sword, desperately trying to beat back those who swept in, and Fíli stepped out, towards the enemies to block them from coming any closer. It was so hard to see in the mess though, and Billa way too far away. She stood, half climbing on the Warg’s corpse to get a better look and see what was going on.

She could see the arrows flying at the Dwarves, could hear the piercing scream before Kíli stumbled backwards while still trying to remain before his King. He raised his sword, desperately trying to fight on, and Fíli was right beside him, somehow managing to slay the Orc that might have ended his brother’s life right there, and nobody was close enough to fight their way towards them.

Billa’s feet moved on their own accord, all she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart and the rush of blood in her ears.

Kíli was barely standing anymore, somehow remaining upright on his knees and still fighting and blocking blows as Fíli tried to resist those that would push him back in their raw brutal hits.

Billa ran and stumbled over stones and warm metal, and what were probably corpses - it didn’t matter, it was only slowing her down.

Thorin’s own swings at his attackers grew weaker as he tried to break free of the circle of foes that had him surrounded, away from where his sister-sons were still trapped on their own. He was fighting, but even at the distance Billa could see that he barely stood a chance.

She cut through the leg of a Goblin that tried to jump on her, ducked under the sword of another and just ran, eyes fixed on the Dwarves. She could still reach them if only she were quick enough; she was the only one this close to them, and she had to protect those who might have been her family if things were different.

Something white flashed in the mass of foes near Thorin, and to her horror Billa recognized Azog. He must have fought his way through countless Elves and Men and Dwarves, just to reach the King. Everything was happening too fast after that, and yet too slow.

It was like something straight out of a nightmare, and Billa stumbled on, with no regard for what was in her way and for who was trying to get to her. Her sight was limited to where the Dwarves were, though it was hard to see them with so many blocking her view.

She saw Kíli jump in front of his uncle, and she saw Fíli sliding over the mud, though she could not tell whether he was hit or trying to dodge.

_Just let them live_ she prayed, the only thought on her mind, _let them all live through this, please_.

Thorin and Azog were right in her line of sight when the Dwarf king staggered under the powerful blow of a hammer of one of the Orcs. He tried to raise his sword but the next blow beat it out of his hand and to the ground.

He was right _there_ , close enough to see the dents in his armour and to see the trickle of blood on his mouth as he screamed in agony. She was even close enough to see the triumphant smirk on the pale Orc’s face, the defiant snarl as Thorin tried to get back on his feet despite his injuries, and though he could barely pick up and lift his sword anymore.

Billa could see how he must be paralyzed in pain, from the way he held himself, and Azog could block any blow with ease, laughing at the Dwarf’s struggle. He knocked the sword away and Thorin back down to the ground with his mace, as if it was nothing.

She could feel her throat burn with the scream before she was even aware of making any noise. Nobody was there to reach Thorin on time; nobody could save him like this. Billa saw how Azog turned away from his pray, fixing on the little Hobbit trying to cross the short distance, eyes flashing dangerously as he recognized her. The last thing Billa saw was Thorin turning to follow his gaze, eyes glazing over and then widening in horror before a kick made him topple over.

The next moment something caught Billa from behind, carrying her away.

She screamed and kicked and tried to get away from what lifted her into the air, but Sting was wrestled out of her hand and she was turned so that she could not see Thorin anymore. She tried to fight to catch a glimpse, but the strong arm around her waist would not yield to her struggles, though it did not move to harm her.

For a second the Orcs were still trying to get to them, but then they screamed in fear and the shadows something enormous were rushing over the battlefield, and some dark beast was rushing after a dwarf-sized warrior towards where the heirs of Durin had fallen.

Only moments later, the fighting in Billa’s perimeter stopped, and she could see Orcs and Goblins retreating while the cries of victory started to rise among the Dwarves, Men and Elves.

She had not realized that she was crying and calling for her friends to hear her, until something warm and soft brushed over her cheeks to wipe away her tears. A hand brushed the tangles out of her messy curls and she was cradled and calmed much like a child.

Swallowing her sobs, Billa turned to see who’d picked her up before, and she was met by the tired but relieved face of Gandalf.

“Now now, my dear friend, there’s no reason to cry bitter tears over nothing,” he scolded her gently. “Look, the Eagles have come to aid us against our enemies.”

He put her down on a patch of unsoiled grass and Billa realized that he must have carried her quite a distance from where they’d been fighting, from where Thorin had - from where she’d seem the others last.

Billa tried to rub at her cheeks, but the sweat and tears and dirt only made it worse. Being clean was the least of her concerns now, but still the only one she could solve.

“Thank you,” she sniffed as Gandalf held out a small white handkerchief for her to use. “You… please, what happened to the others? What… did you see Thorin and Fíli and Kíli? I must go and look for them.”

The wizard didn’t reply immediately and Billa shuddered.

“He fell, I’ve seen it…” the very real possibility of Thorin and her friends being dead hit her like a punch in the guts. “You carried me away…”

Gandalf gave her a grave look and he looked so much older than the ruthless fighter who’d made the Orcs scurry away from his blows. Billa could see how he was holding his sword arm as if it was injured, and his grey coat was torn and caked with mud.

“I had to bring you to safety before Bearn swept in to throw himself against the Orcs. You could have been buried beneath them in the chaos that ensued.”

He reached for her hand with his unharmed one.

“Let us walk over to the healers’ tents. We’ll both need to take care of our injuries and it’s the place we’ll find our friends as well.”

The Hobbit and the wizard made an odd pair as they walked over the battlefield, past the warriors around them and the piles of dead and wounded, and Billa did her best not to look up or take note of anything but what she was stepping on.

The Men watched curiously or ignored them all together, too tired to care. The Elves barely halted on their way, but each took a few moments to pause and bow their head in acknowledgement of Gandalf’s presence.

The Dwarves, however, seemed to be far too interested in watching them, given the circumstances. Each of them would stop to watch as the pair walked past, nudging each other and whispering while giving Billa a strange wide eyed look.

She could not bring herself to care about any gossip right now, not when she was so exhausted and only wished to see her friends alive and maybe even ready to welcome her back into their group.

When they came close to the tents closest to Erebor’s gates she could hear her name being called, and as Billa looked up she saw Bofur and Nori hurrying towards her. The relief at seeing them alive and barely injured with only few bandages and minor cuts made her choke back a sob.

She let go of Gandalf’s hand and then she was already being dragged away by her Dwarves. Bofur grabbed her shoulders as he pulled her away, and Nori was looking her up and down to make sure there were no bigger injuries on her little body.

“Oh Billa, are you alright? We were so worried when we couldn’t find you right away, but I told them, you’ll see, our wee Burglar will be just fine. You are fine, yes?” Bofur patted her shoulder and went on before she could reply. “But we should go and fetch Óin anyway, we can’t let our Burglar get away without having her injuries seen to.”

“No, Bofur… I’m alright, I’m fine…” Billa grasped his hands and looked up at his face pleadingly. “Just tell me, is everyone else alive?” What… what happened to… I need to know!”

Bofur winced at that, guilt on his face.

“You can’t. You should take care of your injuries before… seeing anyone else-“ he started, but Nori scoffed and interrupted him.

“She can stand on her own and she’s not bleeding anywhere. Let her go see them, she’s got every right to.”

“I don’t think she should in her state,” Bofur shook his head and gave Billa an apologetic look as she opened her mouth to protest. “Really now.”

Nori rolled his eyes.

“Would you let yourself be pulled away before knowing what happened to your cousin and brother and their brood?”

Before Bofur could reply to that Nori placed his hand on Billa’s back and pulled her away from the miner, leaving Bofur behind to watch with a worried expression.

All the Dwarves of the company appeared as Nori led her on towards the largest tent, following and bowing their heads to Billa, their faces twisted in sorrow. It was as if an enormous weight had lifted off her heart as she saw them all alive and well. They weren’t too injured as far as she could tell, though Bombur was leaning on Glóin and both Dwalin and Dori needed crutches to remain standing.

When she reached the entrance of the tent and Nori’s hand left her back nobody said a word. Óin stood before her, the front of his tunic still covered in the blood of the injured he’d been helping, and Billa realized that neither of the princes nor the King were there to greet her.

Her knees nearly buckled under her weight and her vision blurred.

“No,” she whispered, unsure how that sound even left her mouth. She looked up at the healer and the thief, pleading for answers.

“Come inside now, lass,” Óin said. “Your presence has been requested and I can not say for how long he’ll be able to regain consciousness. They live, now, but their wounds are severe so they’re barely awake. Go, be with your King now.”

He stepped aside and Billa swallowed her tears. There was no use to cry over nothing. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, then reached out to brush her fingers against the tent’s flaps and stepped inside.

It was dark enough for Billa to need several moments before her eyes fully adjusted. The smell of iron and sickly-sweet herbs hung in the air, and some dimmed lamps stood on small benches, along with fresh dressing material and pots of grounded salves. Screens divided the large tent into smaller portions, designed to provide the patients with privacy, though now there only were three occupants.

The two cots closest to the entrance had been pushed together, with only a little space between each other, enough for someone to be able to reach across. Billa stumbled forwards as she saw the two young Dwarves covered by furs and blankets and wrapped into too many bandages and sobbed with relief.

Both of them were alive! Fíli was unconscious, lying completely motionlessly apart from his shallow breaths, but there was no pain on his face. There was a shocking amount of bloodied rags lying under his cot, most of it in the colour of the clothes she’d seen him wear. His head was wrapped up in bandages, and his body was hidden by a blanket, for which Billa was grateful since she wasn’t sure she could handle to see the full damage of his body.

Kíli was stirring slightly in his sleep, face twisted and feverish. The arm reaching out from underneath the covers had some fresh blood on the bandages. Billa took his hand and brushed her fingers through his hair, feeling more helpless than she had ever before in her life. She wished she could have done something to prevent this, to keep the boys from coming to any harm. They were both older than her, and yet she felt like she had to protect them like children, and keep them from such terrible things as the battle they had just survived.

She stayed there, between the cots, petting Kíli’s hair until his face smoothed out and he breathed a little easier, readjusted both their blankets until she was sure that both of them were lying as comfortable as possible. Only when she was sure that there was nothing else for her to do to help them did she stand up to turn towards the furthest end of the tent.

Screens stood in a semicircle around the barely visible cot, making it look like there was another tent in the one they already were in. The lamps inside seemed to burn brighter than the ones where she was, not one of them dimmed down. As Billa stepped closer she could hear rasping and irregular breaths, making her want to run, both towards then and as far away as she could. She resisted both urges and braced herself before she stepped inside to join the King.


	5. Vigil

Billa hardly dared coming close enough to stand in the gap of screens around the King, and stared at the wounded Dwarf with worry, not quite managing to remain calm.

Thorin’s eyes were screwed shut and the arm that wasn’t tucked under the blankets was curled over his ribs protectively. He seemed to fight for every breath he took, shivering between them occasionally.

The Hobbit stared at him, unsure about what she should do, about what she was _allowed_ to do. Was she allowed to step closer to him, or would he just chase her away for intruding in such a vulnerable moment, or for all the promises she’d broken in the past few days, however good her intentions had been at the time.

But then again, his opinion didn’t really matter to Billa now, and she would not let anyone keep her from making sure that her beloved would live. Even if that someone was her beloved, and if he probably wasn’t feeling too kindly about her right now. She stepped closer to the cot, trying to find any indication for the extent of his injuries. There were some bandages visible where his shirt was opened, but there was little blood anywhere and judging by the clunky bulges under the blankets at least one of his legs was in a cast.

There was little Billa could tell at the distance, so she cautiously edged closer. When she glanced up at his face she found Thorin’s pale blue eyes fixed on her. She stiffened, but did not avoid his gaze nor did she shrink away.

Thorin stared at her with a slight squint, frowning and his lips moving with no words escaping his mouth. Then he blinked, face smoothing as if he’d come to a conclusion. He reached out with his good arm, wincing and trembling at the pain even the simple motion caused him, and spoke with a hoarse voice.

“Billa - I was so certain I’d seen you- But you are _alive_ , I’m glad for it. I must… must speak with you…”

His hand brushed over Billa’s cold cheek, slid down and brushed over her neck until it rested against her shoulder. He was trembling; too weak to even raise his arm to keep it on her face. Billa caught his hand in hers and firmly put his down back on the blankets, making sure it was as gentle as she could.

“Were you injured? You must go see Óin-“

“Yes, yes, I am fine, but you must rest, my King. There is no need to worry about anything else with injuries such as these. There- You’ll have time to speak once you feel better.”

Thorin’s lips twitched into a pained smile and he shook his head slightly.

“I would not risk missing my chance to have you hear me due to one of us departing to where the other can’t follow.”

The words made Billa’s heart ache and she glanced down at Thorin’s bruised and damaged body and then back at his face.

“Please don’t say this! You can’t lose hope, you will recover, you’ll see!”

“I am afraid that I am closer to death than to life right now, my Halfling. But I will try to stay here with you; I won’t leave you alone to deal with… I will not leave you.”

Thorin tried to pull his hand out of Billa’s hold to reach for her face again, and as he could not accomplish that he tried to pull out his other arm out from underneath the blankets instead. The motion made him hiss as his face grew ashen from the pain, but despite the agony evident on his face he tried to go on with it.

With a startled cry of protest Billa launched herself at him to be able to reach Thorin’s other arm and prevent him from stirring it even more, which ended with her nearly lying across his chest.

She knelt on the edge of the cot now, one hand still holding his good wrist, arms straight to prevent any weight of hers from pushing down on Thorin’s damaged chest. They stared at each other wordlessly, Thorin not moving at all and Billa glaring until she finally leaned back and released her hold.

“Please don’t do that,” she requested quietly. “Don’t move anything that’s injured, or else it’ll get worse. There’s nothing worth risking that.”

“Nothing? How can you say that of-“ Thorin sighed and shut his eyes. He did not speak for a while, and for a moment Billa feared he might have fallen unconscious.

“You were there,” he finally said and grabbed Billa’s sleeve. “Right there on the battlefield when I’d made you promise to stay where the Elves were. You ran right to the place anyone as inexperienced and with any shred of common sense would have stayed away from.”

He coughed, and winced at how that shook his body. The grip on Billa’s sleeve grew stronger and he pulled her down a little as he gritted his teeth until his breathing calmed back down again.

“You could have been slaughtered out there! Don’t you see why you must listen when I ask you to stay where it is safe? I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it, I already can barely keep my company of experienced Dwarves alive, but you-“ his voice broke off and Billa managed a weak smile.

“No matter _where_ on the battlefield I would have been, you wouldn’t have been able to prevent an Orc to do what he sets his mind to.”

Thorin glared at her, but there was fear in his eyes, not anger.

“Don’t you understand? You have seen Azog there. Do you know what he said when he brought me to my knees? He wouldn’t have killed me quickly. He’d have let me there to bleed out, to watch my family be slaughtered, to watch as he goes after _you_. He takes his joy from such things. Destroying the line of Durin, and slaughtering everything I cherish in this world before granting me the _mercy_ of cutting my head off. This sort of thing is a _game_ to him.”

It came out quickly, and Thorin had grown louder and more agitated as he spoke. Billa stared at him as he tried to catch his breath. A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined Azog standing over her, a blade piercing through her chest, the last thing she got to see being Fíli and Kíli dead in the mud and Thorin bleeding out before her eyes, dying in the knowledge that she’d failed to protect them despite everything she’d done.

“How could I ever dare face Mahal in the halls of my ancestors, knowing that I’d failed to protect the one who’d given up everything for my sake, the one who dared defy me. What use is there in a King if he can’t even see to the safety and happiness of his own-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence, pulling a face as if he was in pain.

“Forgive me, I should not assume…”

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, Thorin careful not to look at the Hobbit, and Billa shifting slightly so that she was sitting at the Dwarf’s side, watching him.

“You spoke the truth when you said you would give up all you have to protect me…” he finally said, voice wavering, uncertain, questioning the reality of the woman’s decision. Thorin turned back to her, face imploring and afraid of what her answer might imply.

Billa bit her lip as she met his eyes. They were so gentle again, and focused on her despite being hazy from the pain and medication they’d probably given him.

A proud voice that sounded a lot like her mother was nagging at Billa in her head, telling her that Thorin did not deserve any more kindness that she’d already given him. It was better to leave her lover and have her heart broken, than stay with somebody who did not warrant holding it in the first place. Let Thorin think what he will until Billa was certain he earned her love.

But there was another voice pleading her not to be cruel in false pride, that this man, whom she still loved more than anything in the world, was _dying_ , and what did a few days of distance and coldness matter in place of the very real prospect of that Dwarf being gone forever?

“I would still give… everything for you to live,” she replied, deciding to be as honest as she could. “For _all_ of you. I don’t want anyone to die, but I could not bear the thought of my friends dying. Losing all of my gold does not compare to that at all.”

Thorin managed a soft chuckle and stroked up Billa’s arm. She briefly stiffened, but leaned into his touch despite her resolve to be a little distant, her exhaustion finally catching up with her.

“This is probably not something a Dwarf would understand.”

“We do. We are not fixed on our treasures as much as the other people say we do. It is shameful to value gold over the wellbeing of your kin and friends. No one, especially not a King, has the excuse to do so.”

Thorin’s hand stilled right below where he had gripped Billa’s shoulders so hard in the morning.

“But even a King is not safe from growing greedy and blind to what truly is going on, and what dangers are looming over everything he holds dear. You were right in protesting all of my behaviour, and you had every right to take the gold that was promised and leave us behind. Many Dwarves would have done so when being treated like I did you.”

“Well, I am no Dwarf, I am a Hobbit, and we generally don’t abandon anyone who’s close to us or even just used to like us. Not when they’re in as much trouble as you are in all the time.”

Thorin smiled ruefully and tugged Billa closer. She let him, as she saw how his strength must be leaving his body again.

“You Hobbits are such a gentle-hearted folk, so willing to forgive and overlook insults. We all would be in so much less pain and despair if we were as easy-going as you. All conflicts of the past days wouldn’t have happened if we’d value good food, cheer and song above hoards of treasures and our own pride.”

A tiny sound escaped Billa’s mouth; half laugh, half sob, and she willed her fingers not to tremble as she covered Thorin’s had with hers.

“So you admit that our soft ways have their benefits?”

“They do indeed...”

The Dwarf’s eyes were drooping and Billa could see that he was struggling to stay conscious for a little longer.

“Please, if I don’t… I have never regretted anything more than the way I have treated you, how I have wronged you. I want you to know, if I die here, do remember me for the days I was simply Thorin Oakenshield, closer to the Dwarf you deserve, and not a crowned fool. Do not mourn me if that- if I die.”

“Don’t say that!” she cried out, angry that Thorin would still speak like he didn’t mind dying at all. “You will survive and you will finally rule that Kingdom out there and you’ll never be as foolish again! You will learn from your mistakes and you will _live_!”

The Dwarf brushed away the tears that were threatening to spill over Billa’s cheeks and sighed.

“I promise you, my Halfling. I will fight and try not to die; I will live to set everything I did wrong to right. But do not cry for me. I do not deserve your tears, and I do not want to cause you even more distress.”

With the last of his energy he pulled Billa down until she settled in the crook of his arm as comfortable as either of them could be  
, and wrapped his good arm around her waist.

“Just stay for a little while? I want you to be close if I wake…” his voice drifted off and as Billa tilted her head up to look at him she saw how Thorin must have fallen unconscious again.

She sighed and leaned her head against Thorin’s shoulder, eyes on the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The way his arm was curled around her as she clung to his side reminded Billa of the happier evenings they’d spent lying by the campsite, trying to fall asleep uncertain of what the next day would bring but still so full of hope.

The memory made her heart ache and she clenched her fist in Thorin’s shirt. Would they ever go back to that? To the days when Thorin had been sweet to her, when he’d smile gently and when his eyes always searched her out among the others. The time when she could recognize the worry in the angry stares and the occasional scolding he’d give her, and when she could just brush it off with a laugh or a bow of her head and a promise to be careful next time.

He had not mistreated her apart from harsh words and sternness, but that was before he’d grown to trust and love her, and it was part of how Thorin was, how he had grown to be in years as the King of an exiled people. Billa was more than willing to forgive that, and she had assumed Thorin might even soften once he was back in Erebor, and grow less tense.

The way Thorin had changed had been anything but pleasant thought. All the respect and sweetness from his eyes had vanished, replaced by the absentminded glitter and the same gaze he’d directed at the gold. He had stopped speaking harshly to Billa, but he had also stopped acting like the lovestruck and surprisingly bashful Dwarf she’d found herself falling for.

His touch, once gentle and sending pleasant shivers down her spine, had become hard enough to bruise, as if Thorin had forgotten that she was a Hobbit, softer and smaller than Dwarves and made of flesh and not unyielding stone.

Now that the initial shock of nearly losing Thorin had passed, Billa wasn’t certain if she could do this again. She wanted Thorin how he’d been on the journey, not how he was like in Erebor. Might be the King would survive, but despite the remorse he’d shown there was no guarantee for him being the same as he used to be once the fog of pain lifted from his mind.

And who said she would be able to leave once she committed herself to staying by his side?

She had grown too fond of her friends among the company, and the longer she stayed the harder it would be return to Bag-End, and her family there would not wait for her forever. She’d have nowhere to go, trapped with a King who used to be the one she loved, if it came to the worst and Thorin went back to being as he was this past week.

If she went away right now she’d never see most of her friends again, she might never know if Thorin, Fíli and Kíli survived after all, or how they healed. News from Erebor would travel slowly, if any reached the Shire at all. Billa would end up alone, forever worrying for her beloved, knowing that Thorin would end up ruling his Kingdom believing that his Hobbit had given up on him.

Billa listened to the slow heartbeat and the soft breaths coming from Thorin, concentrating on changes in his rhythm, ready to leap up and call for help should it be needed. She brushed her hands over the worn fabric of his shirt and over the braids that lay across his chest.

There was no denying that she still loved him with all her heart, that she still would do nearly anything for him, even if he did return to the way he’d been like just yesterday. But Billa was not willing to sacrifice her heart just like that, for seeing what could become of her lover would break it even more than just knowing him dead.

She knew she was already halfway there to forgiving Thorin for everything that had happened, with most of it not being solely his fault after all. But what if her judgement was clouded by the near deaths of her friends and the battle? What if Thorin could not help but fall back into his weakness?

Billa sat up a little to look at Thorin’s face and watched him for a long time. He used to look at ease in his sleep, his face relaxed in ways it rarely was when he was awake and thinking of all his burdens and duties. Now he was frowning and tense, the pain and worries of the present finding their way into his dreams.

Billa could not leave him like that; she did not want to leave him at all. She would stay, she decided. She would make sure that everyone was alive and she’d help as much as she could with restoring the Kingdom. But she would not treat Thorin as her lover. Let him fight for that right, let him work to earn back her trust and put effort into reclaiming the Hobbit’s heart.

Thorin did not need to know that Billa loved him or forgave him, it would be good to see if he was willing to fight for it, and court her properly. Perhaps it would also teach him that he could not mistreat Billa and expect her to be fine with it ever again.

For some reason Billa thought of her mother again. Her parents had been happy, despite being as different as a pair could get, and she’d always wondered if she could ever have the easy affection they shared with anyone. She had no idea what Dwarven marriage was like. Would Thorin ever show such signs of affection as Bungo had with Belladonna? Would he bring her flowers after a long day away? Take the time to arrange some pillows around her favourite chair when he knew Billa craved comfort? Save her bits of her favourite food in a meal? Would they ever be doing the dishes side by side after a feast? But then Thorin had been raised a prince, and Billa could not imagine him ever standing before a sink to clean silverware and pots.

She stayed lying by Thorin’s side, thinking of this and that, imagining possible futures for the two of them, watching over his sleep and running a soothing hand over his brown each time she saw him twitch in pain. She kept her vigil, not moving from the King’s side at all.

That was how Óin found her when he entered the tent to check on his patients. He did not question Billa, and left her undisturbed after quickly making sure that Thorin had no fever and was breathing as well as he could.

She refused to move when the healer gently offered to bring her a stool or ask for another cot to let her rest. She didn’t take the water or food he offered either, as she’d have to turn her attention away from Thorin for that, and she declined the blankets, telling Óin that she was quite warm enough, thank you very much.

Óin left her to it, being familiar with the sort of worry for loved ones that let one forget personal concerns. He asked the other members of the company to leave the Hobbit alone, and none dared separate the woman from her King until the sun had set and the thin sliver of the moon stood high above the Lonely Mountain.


	6. Meals In Noble Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> descriptions of injuries and wound dressing at the start of the chapter

The noise of the early-rising camp disturbed the silence of the King’s tent, letting Billa know that the first night had passed. She had not slept all night, despite the quiet and her body aching all over from the marks the battle had left on her. She had lain awake, counting Thorin’s breaths in a stupor, expecting him or his nephews to wake up or their conditions to take a turn for the worse any moment.

Nothing had happened until the rays of the winter sun started to shine through the tent’s walls. Then Kíli’s sudden soft cries of pain startled Billa out of her daze, and she sat up to try and see what was going on. She had not even managed to climb down from the cot as Óin already paced through the tent’s entrance, followed by Dori and Nori.

Billa watched the Dwarves gather around the young princes’ cots, obscuring them from view. She had to carefully free herself from Thorin’s grasp to be able to join them. Fíli was still lying still, but apart from the disturbingly pale shade of his skin he seemed to be doing fine.

His brother however was squirming and sweating as he moaned softly in his pain. Óin brushed his knuckles over Kíli’s glistering forehead but remained silent as he frowned. The other two had positioned themselves on either side of the cot, grave looks on their faces. Billa stepped closer as they started to untangle the blankets that had wrapped themselves tightly around Kíli’s body, though she did not dare ask about what was going on. She was afraid of the answer, and she dared not distract the healer in his task.

Billa wasn’t sure what to expect. She had seen Kíli injured before, but each time he had brushed off horrible-looking wounds by telling her that it was just a scratch to a Dwarf. He’d never been in such a state. When the blankets finally came loose they revealed Kíli’s leg wrapped in bandages that were soaked with old and new blood, setting free a smell that made Billa’s stomach turn. Óin made a disapproving noise and set to cutting the bandages away to get a clear view on the wound.

As soon as he touched the leg Kíli jolted upwards with a scream. Dori and Nori grabbed his arms and legs immediately to prevent him from hurting himself or the healer in his task. It looked like they had done something like this before, with how efficient their movements were despite their pale faces.

Not wanting to just stand by idly Billa hurried over to them and placed her hands on Kíli’s hot cheeks, holding his head and rubbing her fingers over his temples soothingly as he whispered a string of unintelligible words. The cut on his leg was bright red, and even Óin winced sympathetically as it came free of the bandages. Billa stared at it wide-eyed. She knew little about the art of healing but she could tell that the sickening smell, the wound’s colour and Kíli’s fever indicated that it was infected. The wound was large, a nasty gash that went over Kíli’s calf up to his knee, the reddening of his skin reaching up further than even that. Could that possibly be bad enough for Kíli to lose his leg? Or, Eru forbid, his life?

Billa could not tear her eyes away from the sight as she held onto Kíli’s face and Óin cleaned it to dress it up again, so she did not notice immediately when a hand on her shoulder pushed her back gently. As she looked up she saw that Nori had let go of the prince to guide her back towards Thorin’s cot.

“Leave it for now, you can’t help there anyway,” the thief said softly. Billa looked at him, and then back towards where Kíli was clutching his blankets and squirmed as Óin took care of him, and where Fíli hadn’t even stirred despite the noise.

“Go and rest. You’ve done more than enough and you certainly won’t be of any use if you pass out!”

Nori was right, of course he was, so she nodded with her shoulders sagging in defeat. She watched him walk back to where his brother and Óin worked and then turned to look at Thorin’s cot behind her. The King’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling above him, lips thin and the knuckles of his hand white as he listened to his sister-son’s sobs. He did not seem in a worse condition otherwise, but he was not paying any attention to Billa.

There was _nothing_ she could do here to help at all, so Billa stumbled away, past the Dwarves and out into the sunlight and fresh cold air. The sensations were surprisingly pleasant and Billa took a few moments to bask in the warm rays as she took a few deep breaths to clear her head. She felt a little calmer, but the ordeals of the past few days started to take a toll. She hadn’t slept or eaten properly in two days and now that her mind was cleared it also made her feel faint.

Food was the more urgent need, she decided, though her stomach clenched at the idea of eating anything now. There would be breakfast served somewhere, so Billa walked past the tents looking out for anyone she might know. Everyone she passed was a stranger, most of them watching her curiously. The Men seemed to be more surprised at her sight than anything, but again the Dwarves of the Iron Hills were whispering and openly staring at her.

This time Billa was not too distraught to notice, and she frowned in disapproval. Didn’t Dwarves consider this to be rude? Perhaps those Dwarves had never met a Hobbit, living further east than any Hobbit would venture under normal circumstances. On the other hand the whispering and occasional pointing didn’t look like normal curiosity at all. Had they heard of her role in the company then? Of how she’d give away gold to the Elves and Men?

Billa bit the insides of her cheeks and quickened her pace to get away from those stares faster, annoyed at the possibility of having to defend her actions to strangers like that. Finally her steps brought her towards a square between the rows of tents where Dwarf warriors were sitting, cleaning their weapons and armour and talking in languages or dialects she could not understand.

They all looked up as Billa walked on, their eyes following her as she tried to spot her friends in vain. She was so short that she could not see very far, though most were sitting, and she could not see anyone who looked familiar.

She was just about to give up and escape the stares to return to Thorin’s tent when she noticed a Dwarf in heavy polished armour marching towards her. As he reached her he made a curt but respectful bow.

“Dáin, at your service,” he introduced himself, and before Billa could give him the proper reply he already went on. “You are Billa Baggins, of course, the little Hobbit lady who has aided my dear cousin on his quest. From all I’ve heard of you and your great deeds I wouldn’t have guessed that you Hobbits are such tiny and peculiar creatures. Even our best warriors would struggle on such a journey and yet here you are unharmed. I must thank you for the help!”

Billa stared up at the Dwarf in disbelief. His face was covered in scars and tattoos, and there were iron rings in his bright red hair and on one of his eyebrows. There was something wild about it, and the mane he’d braided his hair into, and he looked like someone who had seen many battles and emerged from all of them victorious with little trouble. If he hadn’t been watching her with open admiration Billa might have felt terribly intimidated of him as the first day she’d ever stood face to face to a Dwarf, or she might have thought she was being made fun of. How strange to have a Dwarf who’d never met her before think so highly of her.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, curtseying. “I had hardly any choice in the matter, it was go through with it or never see the next morning come. I must thank _you_ for coming to aid us in the battle-“

Dáin shook his head, waving off Billa’s attempt to thank him.

“Oh none of that nonsense lass. I see you’ve not gotten to rest properly after the battle, have you? Surely you came here in search of food? Let us find something for you then.”

Billa really just wanted to leave the watching eyes all around her, with her patience for taller people staring at her like this having run dry in the past days. She could not refuse the Dwarf who’d helped them so much without sounding rude, so she nodded.”

“Come along then! Our kin has just started on breakfast but there’ll be plenty left for us.”

Dáin led Billa past the warriors, his arm extended behind her so it was nearly brushing her shoulders, though he was not touching or pushing her. Just a look and a raise of his eyebrows and even the boldest of the Dwarves averted their eyes and stopped staring at Billa, for which she was grateful.

As they came closer to the mountain and the mountain’s gates, tables started to appear, with maps and parchments spread on them, as well as half-finished bowls of food. Screens had been put up a little further ahead, separating and protecting an area from wind and sight where any tent would have been too small.

A wave of warmth hit Billa as they walked into the area, and looking around she saw braziers standing around, and a large table made for at least two dozen where the remaining company was gathered. They were eating and talking, but as they noticed Billa and Dáin approach they stopped what they were doing and cried out happily. Bofur jumped from his seat to grasp her by the hands and pull her towards the benches, Bifur shifted to make room and said something in his language, and everyone was cheering and toasting.

“Glad to see you up and about, Mistress Baggins!”

“Here, have some of this stew, you must be hungry!”

“Glad you’re not injured, lassie!”

“Oi, bring her something hot to drink, will ye’?”

“You _are_ unharmed, are you?”

“Ah will you give the poor woman some space to breathe!”

Hands patted her arms and back and before she could blink there was a bowl placed before her and a coat draped around her shoulders. She managed a weak but sincere smile as she looked around at her friends. They smiled back, reassured, and went back to talking and eating as before until Billa stopped paying attention to the buzz and turned to her food.

By now she was so ravenous that she didn’t care much for the anxious knot in her stomach or what it was she’d been handed. She only focused on eating as much as she could while trying to take small bites and not to hurry too much, lest the first proper meal that wasn’t _cram_ made her sick. It was much better than anything she’d gotten to eat since their departure from Laketown, and enough dried fruit and small pastries to fill a hungry Hobbit’s belly.

Bofur was sitting quietly as he watched her eat and push away the empty bowls to pull other dishes closer. When most of the food within Billa’s reach started to dwindle and she slowed down he handed her a jug with a sweet-smelling warm liquid, which she accepted with a grateful smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly after she took a few small sips. He leaned closer and had placed a hand on her elbow gently. Billa put down the jug and curled her hands around it for warmth and tilted her head at the question.

“Tired and worried for all of you. But I am hardly harmed! I would not go wandering around if I was feeling unwell, I’m more sensible than you lot,” she attempted to joke, but Bofur was still watching her with a strange expression.

“Bofur. I really _am_ alright,” Billa insisted with a sigh, just as something gently tugged on her sleeve.

As she turned to look she saw that Bifur was attempting to say something in the language of Dwarves Billa still could not understand at all, despite the many nights hearing the old warrior use it. He was moving his hands as well, gesturing at her all the while. When Billa glanced back at Bofur to wait for a translation as he always provided she did not get one, and instead saw the hard glare Bofur was giving Bifur. The conversations around them had grown quieter as well, and everyone was glancing at the cousins and the Hobbit, shifting uneasily in their seats.

“What is it?” Billa asked carefully, noticing the strange tenseness and shift in mood. “Is there something I should know?”

The Dwarves glanced between each other, not answering at all, and it made Billa shiver. Did something bad happen or had she unknowingly done something wrong? Perhaps Bifur was trying to tell her that the other Dwarves were still seeing her as a traitor, despite how they’d acted before. Did the others not want to be blunt about it?

Before Billa’s thoughts could slip further into that dark area Dáin put his drink down on the table, louder than was really necessary, startling everyone out of it. He looked at the others with a searching stare, but as soon as Billa looked up to meet his eyes he smiled.

“So. Lady Billa. I must admit that I’m rather curious about you and your kind. The Iron Hills are far away from the lands of the Shire, and while I’ve travelled in remote parts of the world, I’ve never met a Hobbit. In fact, no Dwarf from back home seems to know anything about your folk. About you having the right size, of course. Would you tell me of your ways? I am curious!”

“Oh, well, I could do that I suppose,” Billa said and noticed how the tension was leaving her friends.

She started describing the Shire in general at first, and her large family, answering as Dáin asked for details about things she’s said or customs he’d observed in the towns of Men near the Shire. As she talked about the topics that were too trivial to seem interesting at all, she saw Glóin and Dwalin lean over to Bifur out of the corner of her eye. They whispered to him in their language, sounding harsh while Bofur seemed to be trying to soothe them. Bifur was making gestures at them, moving his hands faster and in wider motions until he nearly knocked Billa’s jug over. Eventually he stopped paying attention completely and only stared into space with a sullen look.

After having spent what felt like half an age explaining about various families in Hobbiton and how her parents had courted one another and the tale of her father building Bag End for her mother Dáin seemed to have sated his curiosity.

“So you truly are a remarkably brave and strong person, especially among your own kind!”

Billa’s cheeks reddened slightly at the praise.

“I _really_ had no other choice but to be brave,” she tried, but Dáin waved her off.

“I’ve _seen_ you fight your way through the battle. If it weren’t for you none of us would have been able to save the King and the heirs in time. Your presence is what saved my kin. And I’ve been told that you were under strict orders to stay way, weren’t you? You did have a choice.”

She briefly wondered just where he might have seen her. Next to Dáin Dwalin clenched his fists and growled.

“Strict order for sure. She shouldn’t ‘ave been there, might ‘ave gotten herself killed while none knew where she was. It’s hard enough to protect each other on the battlefield, and how’s one supposed to come for someone who shouldn’t have been there in the first place?”

“Peace cousin,” Dáin interrupted his rant. “All went well, and her presence bought us the few seconds we needed to get to Thorin on time.”

Dwalin muttered something about royal fools needing saving, but said no more of Billa. The exchange made her realize that nobody had truly told her the story of how Thorin, Fíli and Kíli had been saved, so she inquired as soon as Dáin returned his attention to her.

“Oh you should have seen it!” Ori, who’d not said anything yet and still looked very exhausted, spoke up. “Lord Dáin was mowing down Orcs and Goblins with his hammer as he charged forwards with Beorn right by his side! The enemies were scrambling over each other to get out of his way, the sight of a bloodied Dwarf warrior and a great bear too much for even them. They reached the Defiler just in time as he was hesitating in his mockery for just a moment too long. Lord Dáin managed to shield Thorin where he’d fallen and slew the Pale Orc as Beorn kept the others at bay. They all fled when their leader was dead, and Beorn carried Thorin to safety himself.”

He looked around after he’d ran out of breath, realizing that everyone was watching, and lowered his head sheepishly. Dáin seemed to be pleased by Ori’s retelling and Billa gaped at the words.

“Then it’s you and Beorn we must thank for having Thorin back alive!” she exclaimed, gratitude for the Dwarf’s deeds making her heart clench. If it weren’t for him the person that was dearest to her might have been murdered right before her eyes.

“As much your credit as ours, Mistress Baggins. The Defiler would have killed my cousin right away if he hadn’t seen you there, fighting your way through to him. He wanted to drag this out as soon as he realized who you are. Your choice to disobey your King and any voice of reason is what gave us the opportunity.”

Billa snorted softly.

“And again with the choice. Believe me, there was none to me. It was not a question of choice to me. I knew I would not be able to live with myself if I had done nothing during the battle. As I saw that Th- they were in such grave danger there was no room in my head for any choices. I certainly wasn’t aware that I could have done anything but run to get to him at the time. I _had_ to.”

The Dwarves turned their attention away from Ori, turning their gaze on Billa whose cheeks heated as she noticed. Dáin stared at her with an expression as if he’d just figured out something funny and he gave her a crooked smile.

“ _Had_ to? From what I’ve heard, even the most loyal Dwarf might have hesitated after the things Thorin did to them. Thorin’s behaviour was shameful as such, but towards _you_ ….”

Dáin leaned back and his lips twitched in a smile.

“Anyone, even the King must behave appropriately towards someone of your… status.”

Everyone tensed up again and Billa just stared at him wordlessly. She didn’t know why Dáin’s words made her friends react like that, but she could not care less for trying to understand Dwarves right now, so she simply nodded politely and returned her attention to the now cold jug in her hands.

Seemingly deciding that she was indeed too tired Bofur rose from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve eaten a lot and I myself always get sleepy from so much. Lets head back to the tents, you can take a kip if you want.”

Billa didn’t resist as he pulled her up and tugged her away from the table as Bifur finally looked up and growled something that sounded annoying. Dáin watched with amusement but rose to bow to her.

“Of course! Wouldn’t want to keep you in our company against your will. I wish you a good day.”

The Dwarves shouted their goodbyes and Billa managed a small wave before Bofur walked them out of the area. He was still holding her shoulder and walked at such a quick pace that Billa struggled to keep up, nearly running. They walked for a while, the grim look on Bofur’s face making Billa shiver slightly. She tugged at his sleeve to try and get his attention but Bofur only quickened his steps.

“What happened? Bofur? Please tell me,” she asked quietly and the tentative sound of her voice finally made Bofur slow down until they were merely strolling. He sighed deeply and glanced down on her.

“Is simply not right. The way they treat you, as if you actually want to stay and… forgive everyone.”

They walked in silence as Billa thought about what he had said.

“I am not offended by it or anything. You have acted strangely lately, but you have seemed so to me before so I don’t mind. I have grown used to not understanding why you Dwarves do certain things.”

Billa smiled up at Bofur hoping to cheer him up, but the corners of his mouth did not even twitch.

“I just worry about you. I fear that it’s not my place to say anything… But I don’t want you to end up unhappy out of a false sense of loyalty.”

They had nearly reached the tents of the healers by now, and Billa turned on her heels to block Bofur’s way. He stopped, looking at her with a pained expression. She took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.

“Don’t fear for my wellbeing Bofur. I am not a tween anymore, I’m a grown-up Hobbit and I have enough sense for all of you combined. I will not tolerate anyone mistreating me and while I am not happy about what he was like, I am willing to forgive him _if_ he truly deserves it. And only then.”

This seemed to reassure Bofur slightly and Billa leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“I will be fine, I promise.”

“Aye. I’m sure of it,” he finally smiled and clapped her shoulder.

Billa returned the smile and took a step back to resume her way. Bofur remained where she’d left him on the field, watching her go and disappear into the King’s tent, still smiling but eyes full of worry for the Hobbit.


	7. A Friend's Concern

The valley that had been the battlefield was mostly cleared by now, free from the cadavers of Wargs, Orcs and Goblins. Their own dead - Dwarves, Men and Elves alike – had been carried to the mountain to be buried or burned and put to rest as was the custom of their people. The foes had been pulled away before they could rot so they could be burned somewhere out of sight. There still were traces of the battle of course; pieces of broken armour and weapons that still had to be retrieved, or torn off limbs and the freezing mud and churned up soil everywhere one looked.

Eyes moving over that landscape, Bofur was sure that the thought of the battle’s remaining traces and the many dead should make him feel dreary, but somehow it did not look more terrible than the desolation had seemed before the armies put foot on it. Perhaps his mind had just not grasped the full extent of the countless little tragedies of any war, and maybe he was still too numb. Maybe the relief at being alive just drowned that out.

Or maybe he was just too tired of all of it. He’d worked in the mines for endless hours and had wandered unsafe roads from settlement to settlement for months at a time, to help Bifur sell toys or find anyone who needed a Dwarf’s work, but never before had Bofur’s bones felt so heavy as they did after these past few months.

Was it the battle or had the journey itself done that to him? He sort of wanted to ask the others if they felt the same weariness, or maybe Dwalin and Balin about whether it had been like this at the gates of Khazad-Dûm in that terrible battle. But for once even Bofur decided that this was not worth pushing it while nobody was in the mood.

The combination of a decade worth of dragon presence, the battle, and the nearing winter had drained the mountain and surrounding area of life and colour, making it look bleak and desolate. Squinting his eyes, Bofur could imagine spring and blossoming plants and young tree saplings though, and he was sure that the place could be beautiful. Just like how the dark abandoned halls of Erebor still showed the potential of glory right underneath the surface.

With their peoples’ leaders still busy dealing with the aftermath of the battle, none had spoken of how to restore Erebor and Dale like that. The soldiers who weren’t injured too badly had taken matters into their own hands as far as making both places habitable went. The former healing houses, armouries, kitchens and some of the living areas had been cleared of rubble and dust, the paths to them were restored as well as possible, and now the soldiers from the Iron Hills had a safe and warm place to stay.

Bofur had helped as well, being one of those who had professional experience in judging the stability of rock and architecture, along with the miner-turned-soldier Dwarves from the Iron Hills and those who were strong enough to life the bigger boulders or upturned statues out of the way.

He wasn’t supposed to, with his head injury and Óin reminding him that he should rest and not run around too much. Bofur had only smiled, nodded, and then hidden the bandages on his head beneath his braids and head. No other healer knew him well enough to know of this so nobody was there to bother him about it while Óin was busy.

There wasn’t that much that might have overtaxed him anyway, the main path of destruction the Dragon had caused when in a straight line from the gate to the treasuries or lay deep within the mountain, most rocks that had broken had crumbled under earthquake-like shocks caused by Smaug, or happened due to years of neglect. Other than that Erebor looked nearly as if it had been abandoned just a few months ago. The healing quarters had only needed some cleaning and new equipment before anyone could rest there.

Everyone wanted to have those done the soonest anyway, with how many wounded they had, and the possibility of Thorin Oakenshield and his heirs dying was an ever-present concern that nagged on Bofur.

As was the matter of Billa.

Just thinking of her made Bofur’s already sombre mood sink a few notches more.

She kept insisting that everything was fine ever since the battle, and she wasn’t injured much more than one would expect after falling and rolling down a muddy (and bloody) hill. She had smiled at Bofur right after, but her legs had been shaking and Bofur had never seen such a forlorn expression on her face. Not even the week before, when he’d seen her looking at his King and her lover, when it seemed that looking at Thorin was breaking her heart. Or when he had accused her of treachery after she’d spent all night trying to do something to ensure the safety of the company. She’d joined the battle along with her friends despite even that, out of love for him most likely.

King or no, the thought of Thorin hurting Billa in any way made Bofur want to knock his teeth out. He had come to care so much for the gentle Ladyhobbit who had complained about dirty carpets and tossing dishes so many months ago, and despite how much she insisted that she could take care of herself Bofur had the urge to protect her. He wished he could accept her decisions, but he’d seen what love could make people do, how even his more sensible friends had nearly broken in an attempt to fix relationships that simply were terrible or could not work out for them. Bofur had always pitied them, and had been glad that he had never fallen in love; that way, there was no chance for him to end up blinded like that.

He had seen Billa standing up to Thorin when he’d treated her in a demeaning way, and he knew there was much more fight in such a tiny Hobbit than one would guess. But he also knew that even with Thorin surviving and showering Billa with all the love and respect she deserved she most likely would still end up unhappy.

Bofur had grown up in a simple family, descending from the Misty Mountains clans, and though he’d lived in Longbeard settlements he had never cared much for their traditions and noble customs (or any noble customs for that matter). He had heard the love stories, he had simply not cared about them for himself and had not thought anyone else in his life would ever live through similar things. When Billa had thrown the Arkenstone at Thorin’s chest, shouted at how she’d gladly give all the gold of Erebor and all she had back in the Shire for him and his life, Bofur’s heart had simply ached for the woman with so much hurt in her eyes. Only later, when he’d overheard Balin and Glóin discussing the event did it occur to Bofur that Billa had essentially made herself Thorin’s wife and Consort.

There had been stories of this; two lovers officially becoming a wedded couple through giving up their entire treasure and all they’d crafted to protect and save their beloved. Even just the will to do so was considered the highest declaration of love.

Bofur had never truly paid attention to the love ballads, and he had snorted when Balin had tried to explain the sheer magnitude of it to him. Wasn’t it common decency? Bofur had never had much of anything growing up, his parents always relying on their children to help make ends meet. He had learnt to consider gold and tiny luxuries as valuable, but he would not hesitate to give up all he had in Ered Luin to save his parents, or Bombur and Bifur, or even his many friends and companions he’d met over the years. He’d rather have his family safe in absolute poverty than have them die before their time.

All Bofur could see happening for Billa’s future was all the duties of being a Queen, leading people that weren’t her own and restoring a kingdom. She might like a marriage, but surely she would not want any of the responsibilities that this particular marriage came with. She’d not shy away from them though, and it broke Bofur’s heart.

Nobody should just _fall_ into marriage like that, not after less than a year and then a week of tenseness. Nobody should be forced to stay in a kingdom that was not their home, and Bofur knew how much Billa missed the gentle hills of the Shire, how she mentioned them wistfully ever so often.

And if he – a Dwarf who did not care much for old traditions but a Dwarf nonetheless – had not realized the implications of Billa’s actions, then how could anyone expect her, a Hobbit with no previous connections to Dwarves, to know? There was no way of Billa actually meaning to _propose_ to Thorin like this, and Bofur was very sure she’d have chosen her words more carefully if she’d known.

Now Balin had actually ordered them to keep the meaning a secret from her. There was little that could make Bofur angry, but this made him properly furious. Balin said that Thorin insisted on being the one to tell Billa of what had happened as soon as he had the energy for such revelations. For that at least Bofur was grateful. Still…

Balin had said that he would have to handle the situation delicately, and Mahal only knew what sort of manipulations would be involved in making the little hero of their quest Erebor’s Queen. Bofur did not wish to keep the secret, but he needed to make sure that Billa could and would leave for the Shire with nothing holding her back. If she caught wind of the situation she might decide that she had a duty, so perhaps it really was the best course of action to keep quiet for now.

Most of the Company had not even protested when Balin had explained the situation and Dáin had been mildly amused but kept out of it since it was a matter between the members. They didn’t seem to mind Billa being the King’s wife or that it was possibly just a misunderstanding. Ori even found it romantic,but Dori had scoffed and said that Billa should not be kept in the dark for too long, since she was their friend and their Queen. Nori had shrugged but hadn’t agreed to help Bofur with this when Bofur asked.

Bifur had actually gone so far as to actually try and tell Billa that she was their Queen, that it was her right to demand respect and obedience. Of course he could not tell her so that she would understand. When Bofur had confronted him about it later Bifur had replied that Billa should know and that he could not stand the thought of the gentle Hobbit to be treated with less respect than was due, as both a hero _and_ consort.

Bofur had groaned and pulled at his braids in frustration until Bombur had sat down with him and quietly confessed that he too thought it unfair to assume Billa would want to stay. To try and prepare for a future she might not want at all. His little brother would not tell her against everyone’s wishes but it had calmed Bofur enough to let the matter rest for the day.

Now, a day later, the disappointment in his friends still grated at Bofur’s nerves. It was then that he resolved to make sure his little Hobbit-friend would be able to return home, no matter what the others thought or did about it.

It was late in the afternoon and many of the soldiers were resting from their work of cleaning or doing hard work for the healers. Most of them were sitting in the groups they had been working in before, just chatting. Bofur joined one of those he was familiar with, where rough looking Sialar was idly plucking the strings of their lyre and Esker, who hardly spoke but made and shared the dry and spicy sausages of the Dwarf clans east of the Iron Hills.

They sat quietly for the most part, the only sound being bits of melodies and the occasional request to borrow a tool or hand over a snack from the other Dwarves. Bofur was chewing on a sausage, lost in thought, when somebody tapped his shoulder. He looked up to meet Esker’s light golden eyes.

“There,” he pointed towards the camps of Elves and Men, “Your Hobbit friend is walking back to our tents.”

Bofur followed his gaze and noticed Billa walking slowly in some distance, her baggy oversized coat in place with one hand. Bofur quickly got on his feet and thanked Esker, who waved it off and returned his attention to sharpening his knives. He followed Billa’s path, her slow place allowing him to go slow himself. He was not sure what she had been doing or why she’d gone to those tents again. Perhaps she had looked for Gandalf? He really needed to catch up and speak to her, before she could return to where Thorin and the princes were and be preoccupied with them.

For a few moments Bofur lost Billa out of his sight, and when he saw her again she was standing by three strangers. He quickened his pace just in time to notice how the Dwarves were looking at her with a mixture of curiosity, disbelief and reverence that set off all of Bofur’s alarm bells. The company had promised that nobody would tell her and Dáin had told his soldiers not to question Billa about her role in reclaiming the mountain, but it was o guarantee that someone wouldn’t let something slip.

When he caught up with them one of the Dwarves who stood closest to her, a tall one with dented but cleaned armour and light blond hair braided back neatly, looked up from Billa and grinned. Bofur glared at him as Billa turned her head, the expression on her face the same when she was confused or irritated with dwarvish behaviour that wasn’t familiar to her.

“Oh hello Bofur,” she greeted, relief in her voice.

“Hello lass.”

He came to halt beside Billa, subtly placing himself so that he was between her and the other Dwarves.

“You’re one of Oakenshield’s company,” the blond said, looking Bofur up and down curiously.

Bofur straightened his back slightly and glared back.

“Aye, Bofur. And who would you be?”

Something about the Dwarf’s impish expression made Bofur wary. It was so similar to the usual mischievous look little Dwarflings had, and who knew what this one’s intentions were or what he had said to Billa already?

The Dwarf raised an eyebrow at Bofur’s curt and nearly rude tone but he only bowed his head with a grin.

“I am Bragi son of Hakgi of the Iron Hills. Forgive my friends and me, we were just curious to meet the heroes of Erebor. You lot are hard to track down with everything going on.”

He smiled and winked, at which the corners of Billa’s mouth twitched upwards and Bofur’s frown deepened. He really did not like this Dwarf.

But Billa looked up at the sky and then towards the gates of Erebor and sighed.

“It was nice to meet you, truly. But it’s about time that I return, and I haven’t memorized the way through the mountain yet.”

“It was my pleasure to speak to you, my Lady,” Bragi bowed deeply and only straightened when Billa had already turned to move. Bofur followed her and a glance over his shoulder showed Bragi and his friends whispering about something. He glared at them for good measure, before walking quicker to adjust his speed to Billa’s.

“So what did they want? They didn’t bother you, did they? You know none of us would let anyone do this, yes?”

“They really didn’t do anything, it’s actually rather nice to have someone speak to me instead of staring wordlessly. They weren’t bothering me and I’m used to strange Dwarves by now.”

Bofur huffed at that.

“So they didn’t… say anything about you not being a Dwarf or offended you?”

Billa waved him off.

“No, as if I’d let anyone get away with that anymore.” They walked a few steps before she added “but they keep using a word I do not know… It probably doesn’t matter and it does not _sound_ insulting.”

“Which word?” Bofur asked suspiciously. Had these soldiers spoken in Khuzdul? What if Billa somehow found out what it meant?

“I don’t even remember how it sounded, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to repeat it or recognize it among others.”

They walked past the tents towards the gates, Billa not saying anything else but looking generally calmer than she had the day before, Bofur with a glum face and readjusting his hat ever so often as he thought about what Bragi had wanted to do.

“What were you doing over there anyway? Looking for the wizard?”

“Not quite. I was helping with representing the interests of the company and Erebor at the council. With everyone with the proper authority being to injured or preoccupied Thorin has appointed me as his spokesperson. I’ve got no personal interest in this and apparently my sweet-talking and diplomacy would win over anyone. Did you know that Bard was made King of Dale by now?”

“Thorin is making you go to negotiations in his stead?” Bofur asked sharply and glared at Billa. She noticed the stare but laughed.

“Oh on the contrary! It took both Balin and me to convince him that I’m up to it. He wanted to keep me out of the mess and safe, but the Elves and Beorn like me well enough so I see no way I could be in danger or fail too much.”

Billa shook her head as she watched Bofur press his lips together in displeasure. It was true, Thorin would not have liked the thought of any of them having to deal with the Elves on their own.

“You lot are really getting possessive, aren’t you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

They had reached the gates by then, so Bofur was saved from having to reply in the first place. There weren’t many people about and Billa followed the paths most of the healers were taking, occasionally hesitating and looking around to make sure she was on the right way. They lead deeper and higher into the centre of Erebor, when Bofur recognized the royal palace and the nearest healing quarters to it.

“Have they already brought them here?” he asked. He’d been sure that the royal family was to be moved into the mountain to rest, but perhaps he’d been busy while it happened.

“Óin suggested that it’d be better to carry them now, as they’d get better quicker after a short period of stress and then good rest. I don’t think that too much jostling is really bad at this point?”

The tension around her eyes suggested that she thought otherwise but Bofur chose not to comment on that. He had heard of the boy’s conditions, with Kíli’s leg still causing complications and Fíli being weak and only regaining consciousness for short periods of time. While carrying them all the way up surely had been taxing they would recover better with warmth and solid rock surrounding them.

The place Billa headed towards was a relatively small building but the faded signs marked it as part of the palace. Only few Dwarves were anywhere near the place, all of them healers by the look of it. They paid them no mind as Billa led him into the house and the rooms where their friends rested.

Closest to the entrance was a room with two cots and Billa rushed to the brothers to see if they were feeling any different. Bofur followed, saw how Fíli’s cheeks had regained some of their colour and Kíli feverish and twitching in his sleep but also calmer. Whether it was from actually doing better or Óin’s tinctures, Bofur could not tell. He watched Billa straighten the princes’ blankets and whisper reassuring words that most likely went unheard before turning to walk to where they’d brought the King.

There were screens shielding most of him from view but Bofur turned away as Billa walked over to sit by Thorin’s side. There was the rustling of sheets as he sat up a little and took her hand. He did not want to see Thorin being forgiven so soon, when he did not even deserve it in the near future, as far as Bofur was concerned.

“Are you well, my kurdinh? Did the Elves show you respect?”

“Of course, they were more pleasant than some other people I know. Not breaking my things first of all. But how are you? You must do all Óin tells you to, don’t forget that!”

Bofur pressed his lips together and distracted himself from his frustration by watching a healer grind and mix ingredients for medicine in a corner. Counting the neat chestnut braids on her head and watching the steady movement of her hands was calming at least. Bofur could still hear Thorin whisper something to Billa and he had to clench his teeth together. He should make sure that Billa was not being manipulated into anything, neither by Thorin nor Balin nor any of the other nobles that might think her being the Queen would save them trouble.

The pretty healer had finished whatever she was doing by then and carried both the bowl and a jug of water over to put on the nightstand next to Thorin’s cot.

“You must drink this every five hours, your majesty,” she said with a respectful and nervous little bow. “You mustn’t miss out and do not leave leftovers. I will check whether you’ve drank it all.”

Her voice was very no-nonsense as she spoke, used to dealing with patients though she had no experience with royalty. As she told Thorin how exactly he was supposed to drink his medicine Billa looked up at Bofur and smiled.

“Thank you for accompanying me here,” she said and it seemed as if she wanted to add something else but in that moment the healer got up to return to her workbench and Billa was distracted by Thorin’s hand curling around her fingers.

Bofur sighed and turned away. He had no idea why he’d decided to come up here anyway, apart from seeing him his friends were doing with his own eyes. The pretty Dwarrowdam had gathered up her supplies in several baskets and was about to leave, so Bofur took the opportunity and joined her.

“Might I be of help with these?” he asked, tipping his hat slightly and pointed at the baskets as they exited the building. The healer had freckles to match her hair and she smiled at Bofur as she shrugged and handed some of her load to him.

They walked side by side to return to the gates, and Bofur’s mood slowly returned to his normal and cheerful state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kurdinh : heart-lady

**Author's Note:**

> This story means a lot to me, since it was the first Hobbit fan fiction I wrote back in January 2013, and the first long fic I started and finished. It lead to me writing many more, polish up my English and make friends in the fandom. So nearly two years later my grasp on the characters and my use of the language has gotten much better, and I decided to give this a rewrite to match my current skill level
> 
> thank you all for reading this (again) and for the support I have gotten over the years!
> 
> the original fic is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/698417/chapters/1285776


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